


When Autumn Leaves Fall

by Wapwani



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), dragon queen - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/F, Maleficent is pretty grumpy, Maleficent teaches Regina magic, Regina gives as good as she gets, slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:53:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wapwani/pseuds/Wapwani
Summary: The one where Maleficent saves women from being married off unwillingly. But when she saves Regina, she just may have let herself in for more than she bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Witchpieceoftoast is totally to blame for this. They had the idea of turning the stereotype of the dragon kidnapping women on its head, and having Maleficent *save* the women instead. 
> 
> I've been writing this one over on tumblr, but am moving it here because it got longer than I thought it would be. (Famous last words etc).
> 
> Also, don't be lulled into a false sense of security by the jokes; this is going to get pretty grim and angsty along the way.

Maleficent was an uncommon dragon in many regards. Oh, in some ways, she was _very_ dragon. A very perfect dragon. She had a wingspan of over 20 metres; her scales were harder than diamond and shinier than any crystal; when she breathed fire, rocks would turn to glass under her feet. 

But if you could find the magic that would let you scratch beneath the surface of those scales, you would find a heart and mind unusual even for a dragon.

Like all dragons, Maleficent loved to hoard. It was as instinctive an urge as the one to leap into the air and chase down a running deer, or the one that had her rearing back, crest flaring and ready to fill the air with fire, whenever she spotted a challenger. 

She felt the first stirrings of this drive to hoard as a very young dragon. Maleficent had fallen in love with the leaves that fell in autumn. She had gathered great mounds of them, filling her little sleeping cave with piles of reds and yellows and golds, until it looked as though she were sleeping on a bed of flame. She’d curl up among the leaves, and count them, and sort them by size and shape and gradation of colour. She’d puff her cheeks and blow out huffs of powerful breath, sending leaves fluttering through the air, like pretty little fairies out for a dance. She’d pounce to catch them before they fell back to earth, gather them back into piles and mounds and finally fall asleep, buried in leaves, exhausted.

In the morning, her inconsolable howls had brought her mother storming to her sleeping cave.

Her mother found Maleficent sitting, weeping, surrounded by dust and crumbles of faded colour.

Her wonderful hoard of flame was disintegrating around her.

“Hush, bright eyes,” her mother had said, gentle as any human mother. She’d drawn Maleficent to her side, wrapping her close with a powerful wing.

“Ahh, we do bear the loss of that we love very hard. You will learn, bright eyes, to only love things that hold fast. Gold and silver and gemstones. Not this ephemera that lasts no longer than a breath.”

Maleficent heard her mother’s words. But what stayed with her was _love things that hold fast._

As she grew, so did her hoard. And while Maleficent _did_ collect gold and silver and gemstones (for she loved bright and beautiful things as much as anyone), she also hoarded other things, things that no dragon would ever think of as treasure.

Her library was a thing of wonder, spanning centuries of knowledge and thought. Her walls and halls were lined with art of all forms. Magical devices filled the air with music whenever she walked into a room. 

Whatever was deemed worthy of being part of her hoard, Maleficent kept protected and safe. Because a dragon bears the loss of that she loves very hard.

There was one more thing that Maleficent loved. And that was love itself - the most ethereal of things that hold fast.

She had tried to find a way to hoard ‘love itself’, but all her attempts ended in misery. Her strongest magic could not find a way to pinpoint and extract and embody the spark of ‘love’. 

Then she tried protecting love in others, but that had failed too. Even the most ardent of lovers would flee as soon as they realised a dragon was taking an interest in their coupling.

Finally she had decided that she would find those wayward souls who, through no fault of their own, were doomed to a destiny that denied them any chance of love. She would find them and save them.

It just so happened that the inspiration for this decision was a young woman Maleficent overheard weeping on a hillside, lamenting the fate that was forcing her to be married off to a man she did not love. Perhaps a little part of Maleficent recalled her own childhood despair in the woman’s sobs. 

By the time Maleficent had worked through her own thoughts and emotions, the young woman was gone, delivered to the rich landowner who would claim her as his bride.

Tall walls and barred windows were no deterrent to a dragon whose flame could melt rocks.

Maleficent had gone crashing into the fort, scattering terrified guards before her, and carried the young woman off into the night.

This became the incident from which her legend grew. Mothers and fathers would tell terrified daughters this story on the eve of their marriage: _Be grateful we are giving you to a powerful man. He will keep you safe from the dragon!_

 

And sometimes those parents would wake to gaping holes in their walls, and a missing daughter.


	2. Chapter 2

Maleficent saved many a young woman from a fate of loveless servitude. She’d carry them back to her lair and keep them there until they were recovered and strong again, then she’d let them go, drop them off somewhere far away where they could start life anew. 

Her legend grew with every woman she took.

_Beware the dragon. The stealer of virgins._

In the course of her long life, Maleficent travelled the world, collected more treasures to add to her hoard, and saved women. And she well may have continued doing that for the remainder of her years, if she hadn’t finally fallen prey herself to that which she sought to protect.

The woman was a princess, and she had been promised in marriage to a king from a neighbouring land, so that the power of their families could be consolidated. 

Maleficent heard the woman complaining bitterly to her handmaiden as she sat in the window of her bower and combed out her long yellow hair.

“He’s so old. His knees creak when he tries to dance!”

“Yes your highness.”

“And his breath always reeks of onion and cold mutton!”

“Yes your highness.”

“And I’m expected to kiss that?!”

“Yes your highness.”

“Oh go _away!”_

The handmaiden fled the princess’s wrath and flung hairbrush.

From her vantage point, circling high overhead, Maleficent smiled. This fiery response pleased her.

She watched for a few days, growing more and more fond of the bad-tempered princess. When it became obvious that her acerbity was not going to save her from being married off, Maleficent swooped in and took the princess away.

She carried the princess back to her lair; the woman protested the entire way there, swearing vengeance and all manner of retribution if the dragon harmed a single hair on her head.

By the time they were safely on the ground again, Maleficent was quite besotted.

She had never wooed a human before, but she knew that doing it as a dragon would hinder any hope of a positive outcome. So she scoured her library until she found a spell that allowed her to change her form.

As a human, Maleficent was willowy and tall, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes, and a mouth both hard and cruel, and infinitely soft and welcoming. Her wit was still sharp, and her memory long, and her experiences made her a most entertaining companion.

For a while, the princess seemed happy enough to be wooed by the dragon.

One day, they were taking tea in the rose garden; the sky overhead was blue, the winds soft, the fountain played a soothing melody of falling water. Briar Rose reclined against some pillows, reading aloud from an old history book, recounting a tale of some bloody battle or other. Swept up in the moment, Maleficent tried to kiss the princess.

The princess screeched. “Get away from me!”

“I’m sorry,” Maleficent said, drawing back. “Forgive me. I did not mean-“

“What makes you think I’d want to kiss _you?!_ You’re nothing but a monster!”

Needless to say, Briar Rose did not stay much longer in the lair.

Humiliated and broken hearted, Maleficent brought the princess to a distant city, and left her with a noble family of good repute. She returned to her lair to lick her wounds.

Briar Rose married, a young, strong prince of the realm named Stefan. He made it his duty to hunt down the dragon that had held his wife captive and tormented her (or so the story was told). Harried for years by soldiers and mercenaries, Maleficent grew grimmer and angrier and more reclusive.

One day, she returned to her lair from a hunt, closed the door behind her, and never emerged again.

 

***

 

In a small fiefdom two days’ ride away, a young girl begged her mother for clemency.

“Please, Mother! I’m sorry! I’ll be good!”

In the corridor outside, a young washer woman hurried away from the noise, holding her basket of dirty linens tight against her chest like a shield.

In the morning, after she’d returned the clean linen to the manor house, the washerwoman kissed her husband goodbye, hitched her old donkey to the cart, and set off.

It was a lonely journey, but uneventful.

She remembered the way, even though it had been nearly eight years since she had last travelled it. And she’d been much higher and going much faster then. The lair was exactly as she remembered it; hidden in a foreboding part of the forest, tall and imposing with a door wide enough to allow a dragon to pass.

She crept up to the door, and knocked tentatively. She had to knock ten times, each knock growing slightly more desperate, before the door was finally flung open.

“What?” Maleficent growled.

As she travelled, the woman had memorised a speech. But face-to-face with the dragon, the words failed her.

“You saved me once!” she cried.

Maleficent frowned.

“What of it?”

“There is a girl. She needs your help.”

“I don’t help humans anymore.”

“Please, please. She is alone. And scared. She’s only twelve!”

“A bit young to be married off.”

“Oh. No. She’s not…well…not yet anyway. But her mother-“

“I don’t help humans anymore,” Maleficent snarled, each word falling from her lips with cutting precision.

“Please. You saved me. When no one else would. Please. Don’t turn your back now!”

“Leave!”

“She’s just a child!”

The door slammed shut.

The woman spent the entire night pleading against the dragon’s door. But it stayed closed.

Finally she gave up, and crept away, her voice hoarse with weeping.

Maleficent watched her leave.

She felt a twinge of curiousity, and a fainter twinge of something she feared was remorse.

 

***

 

The washerwoman found the child, hiding in the garden. She had climbed up into the apple tree, and was munching on one of the deep red fruits.

“Will you not spoil your lunch, child?” she asked gently.

Regina shrugged. “I’m not to have lunch. My lessons were not well done.”

“Oh.”

The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out half a roll and some cheese.

“Here.”

“That’s _your_ lunch,” Regina protested.

“I’ll eat at home,” the washerwoman said.

“Thank you, but I can’t take your food. You need it more than I do. You work hard.”

“Oh, child,” the washerwoman sighed.

She leaned against the tree and squinted up into the sky, looking for any sign of hope.

“If you’re lucky,” the woman said quietly “maybe the dragon will come for you.”

“And eat me?” Regina asked matter-of-factly. “Or burn me to a crisp?” She sounded like she’d be pleased with either option.

“Don’t give up hope just yet, child,” the woman begged. 

She’d save up a little more money, and then try the dragon again. She’d stay a week if she needed to.

 

***

 

That night, cold and hungry and still fearful from the grip of her mother’s punishing magic, Regina sat on the windowsill of her room, and watched the stars emerge.

“Please,” she whispered, as the first one appeared. “Please help me, fairy godmother.”

Maleficent clung to the buttress above Regina’s room. She heard this wish go out into the night.

“What makes you think a fairy will hear you?” she growled.

“Who’s there?” Regina demanded.

“Not a fairy,” Maleficent replied.

“I don’t think my wish will be heard,” Regina said, after a silence in which Maleficent could swear she’d heard tears falling, splashing against the stone sill. “But it makes me feel better to make it.”

Maleficent growled, low and deep. She flung herself into the air.

“Get back!” she cried.

Her talons thudded into the wall, claws scrabbling for purchase. She beat her wings, and ripped chunks of stone away; masonry thudded to the ground below. Guards shouted and screamed. Ward lights flared brighter on the walls, and she could hear running feet and the clanking of armour. 

Regina was huddled on the ground, her arms flung over her head in an attempt to protect herself.

Maleficent’s talons closed around the child’s body; gently though, careful not to pierce or tear. She beat her wings again, and they were out in the open air, climbing for height and freedom.

They flew through the night, coming to ground just as the dawn light began to stain the sky pink.

Maleficent released Regina, dropping her into a pile of soft green leaves.

Regina stumbled to her feet, stiff and cold from the journey.

“You’re a dragon!” she breathed in wonder. 

Maleficent fixed her with a sullen glare.

“As I said, not a fairy.”

Then she leapt into the air, and was gone, leaving Regina alone in the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

Regina stared after the dragon, shock and fear rendering her immobile and silent. By the time she could even think to cry out, the dragon had disappeared.

Now, as much as Maleficent was an uncommon dragon, Regina was an uncommon human. 

Other children in her situation - stolen away from home in the dead of night and then abandoned in unfamiliar woods - may have spent at least a little time weeping. But Regina had learned that tears only brought more punishment, and certainly no respite from whatever was causing the tears in the first place.

So, when the dragon had faded from sight, Regina squared off her shoulders, set her jaw into a firm line, and examined the land around her. 

The ground was mostly undisturbed, but she noticed the faintest of paths cutting between the trees, and she was sure she could smell woodsmoke in the air.

Having no better option before her, Regina followed her nose towards the scent of fire.

She came upon a clearing in the woods. There was a shallow stream with rocky banks on one side, and a smooth patch of grass blending into the trees on the other. Nestled in the midst of this bucolic setting was a cottage; round and squat, made from yellow-white bricks, with bright green ivy trailing along the walls. There were smaller, wooden, buildings set behind the cottage. The only signs of life were the chimney - burping puffs of white smoke into the air - and the whinny of a horse from one of the outer buildings.

Regina walked up to the cottage, chin jutting out in challenge, and banged her fist upon the door. When it swung open, it revealed an older man; he was bigger than her father, broad and dark-haired, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What d’you want?”

“I’m lost,” Regina told him. “And hungry,” she added, because that was also foremost on her mind. The stolen apple she’d eaten instead of lunch (and that had cost her dinner) had been a _long_ time ago.

The man shrugged. “Why should that bother me?”

“I can work,” Regina said. “I’m strong. And I’m good with horses.”

“Is that right?” the man said. “Well, I’ve got a horse out back that-“

“Maurice,” a woman’s voice cut in, “the child said she was hungry. We’ll feed her _before_ you put her to work mucking out stables, thank you!”

The man grunted. 

“Right you are, Agatha,” he said, and pushed the door wider open.

“You’d best come inside then,” he said to Regina.

Inside, the cottage was spare but comfortable. The main room was mostly made up of the kitchen and work benches; there was a small area by the fireplace with rugs and two armchairs; there was a pile of knitting besides one chair, and a pipe set by the other. There was a crossbow hanging by the window.

Agatha was as round as the cottage, with curly dark hair just starting to go grey; she wore a pair of spectacles that did little to hide the friendly twinkle in her eyes; her voice, when she called Regina over to the table, was firm and no-nonsense, but kind.

“Come and sit down, child. I hope you like porridge!”

She put a bowl down in front of Regina, filled near to the brim with steaming porridge; she ladled a generous helping of honey on top of the oats and handed Regina a spoon. 

“Well, go ahead. Get stuck in.”

Regina did not need a second invitation. 

 

Maurice took the other chair at the table and accepted his bowl of porridge with a small smile. 

Agatha stood beside him and they watched Regina eat. It was obvious that, despite her hunger, the girl was trying very hard to remember her manners, to eat slowly and daintily as she must have been taught. 

Agatha sighed.

“Doesn’t she look like our own little one, at that age?”

Maurice grunted noncommittally, but he patted his wife’s hand. 

They hadn’t seen their daughter for several years now; she was grown and had left home to seek her fortune in the world. This young one now, she had the same look about her as their daughter had - that stubborn set to her jaw, the courage in her eye that could so easily turn to aggression and hate.

Agatha sounded more wistful than worried though, and Maurice made a mental note to go through the attic and bring down Anita’s old chair and bed; the little back room would be easy enough to clean out and turn into a bedroom again. Especially if the young girl helped.

 

By dinner time, by the time they’d heard the story of Regina’s mother and her powerless father, and the story of the rescue by dragon, and the abandonment in the woods, Maurice and Agatha both knew that nothing in the world was going to take Regina from them. Not without a fight anyway.

 

*** 

 

For five years, no one and nothing challenged the little family who lived in the round cottage in the woods.

Agatha took Regina into the village with her and introduced her as, “My granddaughter. Anita’s young one. Staying with us now, while Anita’s still off exploring.”

“Aye. She’s got Anita’s eyes,” someone said, and that was settled.

To maintain the story, whenever they were in public, Regina would call Agatha and Maurice ‘Granny’ and ‘Grandpa’; soon the words became so natural to her, that’s all she ever called them, even when it was just the three of them, sitting by the fireplace of an evening.

Granny taught Regina to knit there by the fire; she taught her to cook in the kitchen. Maurice taught Regina to track in the woods, and how to defend herself with a stave; Granny taught her to hunt with the crossbow that hung by the window.

Working side by side with Maurice and Agatha, Regina learned to till the land, and sow, and harvest. She learned how to butcher an animal and hang its carcass to smoke. She grew strong, her hands grew rough and calloused, and her skin darkened under the open sun. When she’d look at her reflection in a still pool, she wondered if her own parents would recognise her any more. 

In the first few months she lived with Agatha and Maurice, Regina thought of her mother and father more often than she’d have liked. Those thoughts came less frequently as the years passed, but every so often, Agatha and Maurice would notice Regina smiling less at breakfast, or retreating to sullen silence as she read at the kitchen table. On such days, Maurice would take Regina off into the woods with him. They’d hunt or fish or just walk for hours, Maurice making no demands of conversation, until Regina’s gloomy mood lifted. Then they’d return to the cottage where Agatha had a big meal waiting for them. Agatha would tuck Regina in on nights like that, spending a little more time than was strictly necessary on making sure that the girl was settled. Eventually Regina would sigh, throw her arms around Agatha’s neck and whisper, “Thank you, Granny.”

On one such day, when Regina was nearing her thirteenth birthday, Maurice had noticed her morose face at breakfast; he handed her a large basket and said, “Follow me.” 

There was a variety of dark mushroom he loved, that grew only in deep, secluded undergrowth. Regina was tenacious and had sharp eyesight; she made an excellent mushroom hunter and gatherer. 

But something else was out in the woods searching out mushrooms this morning. 

They stumbled upon the wild boar, catching him between the close-set trees and open ground. The boar was a big, bad-tempered, brute, with heavy tusks and armored shoulders. He charged, grunting and squealing, white frothy spittle flying everywhere as he pounded over the earth towards them.

Regina fell, her arms automatically swinging up in a warding action. Maurice shouted a warning and leapt in front of her, trying to shield her with his body.

A sputtering of purple flew from Regina’s fingertips, formed into a ragged ball of swirling smoke, and rammed into the charging boar, just over its right eye. The boar staggered, and fell, lifeless.

Regina scrambled to her feet, staring from her hands to the dead boar in horror.

“Regina-“ Maurice started to say.

“No,” she stammered. “Stay back!”

She turned and ran from him, disappearing into the woods.

 

***

The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the sward of grass, when Regina returned to the cottage. 

Maurice was at the cottage door, his walking boots on and a shielded lantern in his hands.

“Was just coming to fetch you, my dear,” he said when he caught sight of Regina.

“I’m sorry,” Regina whispered. 

“In you come,” Agatha said, sternly. “You must be starving.”

“I’ll..I’m sorry. I came to say goodbye. I’ll go.”

“Did you hit your head when you fell?” Agatha demanded. “Or did you get too much sun out there in the woods? You’re making no sense, child.”

“I did magic,” Regina said in a dazed voice.

“Yes. I know,” Maurice said.

“My mother said I was weak. She said I had no power.”

“Sounds like your mother may have lied to you,” Agatha said, trying to keep her voice even and calm through her worry.

“You don’t want me around,” Regina said, still sounding in a daze. 

“Will you stop- _Why_ do you think that?” Agatha said, beginning to lose some of her calm.

“I did magic! No one likes a magic wielder!”

“Was that your mother again?” Maurice asked.

Regina nodded.

“Maybe no one liked _her_ because of what she did with her magic,” Agatha said acerbically. “Trust me, child. We don’t think there’s anything wrong with you for using magic. Now, come inside and sit down. The stew’s drying in the pot.”

Regina allowed herself to be led to the table.

“You’re only saying that to be kind,” she said. “Magic is scary.”

Agatha snorted.

“We’ve got nothing to fear with you my dear.” 

She sighed, and looked at Maurice, who nodded.

“Regina,” Agatha said as she ladled stew into her plate, “have you ever heard of werewolves?”

Regina frowned. “That’s an old wives’ tale, isn’t it? People who turn to wolves under the full moon.”

“Not so much of the old wife, please,” Agatha said sharply.

Regina stared at her, then started to laugh.

“Are you a werewolf, Granny?” she asked.

“Yes,” Maurice answered. “We both are.”

“I’ve never seen you turn into a wolf!”

“We’re older now,” Granny said a little sadly. “It takes a lot of power, to change. Gets harder when you’re old. Even the moon isn’t enough to force the change now.”

“Force- So…you can turn into a wolf whenever you like?”

Granny nodded. “Little known fact about werewolves.”

“I’m sorry, Granny. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but-“

“Pay attention,” Maurice said, and he got heavily to his feet. 

“Maurice was always stronger than me, “ Granny said. She leaned back in her chair. “Watch.”

“Try not to scream,” Maurice said. “The wolf doesn’t like screaming.”

He frowned in concentration. His skin started to ripple and flow, and suddenly he was sprouting fur and his body was twisting through what looked like painful contortions, getting stockier and longer and closer to the ground. With a final pained grunt, the transformation was complete.

Regina stared. 

The largest wolf she’d ever seen was standing across the table from her, staring back.

His fur was dark and streaked with grey, much like Maurice’s hair, but his eyes were green. When he opened his mouth to pant, he showed long yellow fangs. His tongue was very pink. 

Regina moved closer.

“You’re a wolf!” she said.

The wolf nudged her with his snout; his nose was cold and wet against her shoulder.

Regina laughed.

“Told you,” Granny said, a little smugly.

“Can I pet him?” Regina asked.

Granny grinned. “Best not. He’ll never leave you alone then. He’s a terrible one for begging for scratches.”

The transformation back to human form seemed to take less time. By the end of it Maurice was gasping for breath, and his entire body shook like he was suffering from the ague. He sank into his chair. 

“You’d best cook me up some of that boar,” he said to Agatha. “The bloodier the better.”

“Come along my dear,” Granny said to Regina. “Let’s bring in some chops from the cold store.”

“You’re really werewolves,” Regina said.

“We are. You too afraid to stay with us now?”

Regina stared. She shook her head. 

“Good. Nothing wrong with being a little different, my dear. You belong here with us. Even more today than you did yesterday. Yes?”

Regina nodded.

“Well, that’s settled. Now come along. All that transformation leaves you with a powerful hunger. Good thing we got lots of meat off that boar you killed. Well done!”

 

***

 

Regina’s magic kept showing up, with little warning. 

They noticed a pattern eventually. When she was angry or felt threatened, the purple sparks would flash from her finger tips, and the magic would flow. The angrier or more frightened she was, the stronger the effects of her magic, but Regina could not control the power very well. It would skitter around, wild and uncoordinated, causing all sorts of mayhem and chaos.

It was when Regina nearly set the shed on fire because she’d been startled by a squirrel, that Maurice started teaching her to fight with the stave.

His reasoning was that if Regina knew how to defend herself, she’d be less likely to react by striking out with her magic when she was afraid or angry. It worked for a while, and Regina could often be found striding through the woods with her stave, a knobbly staff of white ash that Maurice had smoothed and polished till it shone.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Agatha and Maurice were sitting side by side, having a quiet moment together, while they waited for Regina to get home. The air was filled with the savoury aroma of roasting chicken and rosemary, and the spicier scent of Maurice’s tobacco. Agatha was knitting and telling Maurice about the plans she had for building Regina a workroom, out behind the stable, so she could practice her magic. The surges of magic came more frequently now, as Regina approached her eighteenth year, and while her control was improving, her power still tended to be a little wild and unpredictable. If Maurice made the room out of stone, Agatha reasoned, there was less chance of it catching fire if Regina’s magic got away from her.

Regina was currently in the village; she’d ride in on Maurice’s old horse about once a week. There were a few young people in the village, sons and daughters of farmers mostly, and some woodsmen and miners. Regina never spoke very fondly of any one particular person; her unstable magic made her wary of getting too close to anyone other than Agatha and Maurice.But she still went in to the village regularly to drink a mug of ale and listen to the gossip that passed around from table to table in the tavern.

Agatha and Maurice didn’t worry too much about Regina being away from the cottage; they knew Regina had a good head on her shoulders, and she could handle herself if there was any trouble. They did fret though, as the evening grew closer with no sign of Regina.

They heard the pounding of hooves. Someone was riding hard towards the cottage. 

Agatha and Maurice both got to their feet as quickly as they could; Agatha took the crossbow down from the wall and loaded it. 

The door flung open and Regina burst through.

“There’s a witch!” she cried.

“Where?” Maurice said.

Agatha raised the bow to her shoulder. “Get inside, child!”

“No. Not here!” Regina waved her hand vaguely southwards. “Near Big Oak,” she named a large town about twenty miles away. “The tinker was talking about it tonight. He’s just come from Big Oak. Said a witch and her army were threatening the town.”

Agatha lowered her crossbow. “Big Oak is not our problem.”

“The tinker said she’s coming this way.”

“Regina-“

“I think it’s my mother.”

“Oh no, child. Don’t think like that,” Agatha said, quickly crossing over to Regina to take her by the shoulders. “Your mother has no idea where you are.”

“I think it’s her, Granny,” Regina whispered. “I want to go see for myself.”

“No!” Both Agatha and Maurice cried at the same time.

“I have to,” Regina said despairingly. “I think I have to face her. I can’t hide from her forever.”

“We don’t even know if it’s her!” Agatha said, anguished. “All you’ve said is ‘a witch and her army’. What makes you think I’m going to let you offer yourself up to _any_ one who sounds like that?!”

“But, Granny!”

“I’ll go.”

Maurice’s voice was firm, cutting through Regina and Agatha’s argument.

“Don’t be daft,” Agatha said immediately.

“Yes,” Regina agreed. “That’s daft.”

“Better we let the girl go out there on her own?” Maurice said, directing his question to Agatha. 

“Why does it matter who the witch is?” Agatha wailed.

“So we know if we have to leave here,” Maurice pointed out. “To find someplace safer for Regina. If it’s just any old witch, we can hide out here until she’s passed on. But if it is Cora - well - we don’t want her coming for the child, do we?”

“Maurice,” Agatha said softly.

“It’s too dangerous!” Regina cried.

“Yes, dear, it is,” Maurice agreed. “That’s why it’s me going and not you.”

“Grandpa, please, at least let me go with you.”

“Ahh, your Granny would never forgive me if I did,” Maurice said with a laugh. He cupped Regina’s cheek in his rough palm for a moment. “Go saddle Blossom for me, would you, dear? I need to pack a few things before I set off.”

Regina gave him a brief, fierce, hug, and left the cottage.

Agatha shook her head at her husband.

“You’re a foolish old man,” she said. “Brave and stubborn and foolish.”

“Isn’t that why you married me?”

“If you don’t come home, Maurice Lucas-“

“Then you’ll know it was Cora Mills that got me. And you get yourself and Regina out of here. I’m counting on you, Aggie.”

 

Maurice rode off with moonlight to light his way. The moon was full and flooded the countryside with a silvery glow, but Maurice’s old body stayed human.

Regina and Agatha stood in the doorway to watch him leave; Agatha’s arm curled protectively around Regina’s waist.

“Courage, child,” she whispered to them both.

 

Two nights and a day went by, without sign of Maurice’s return. The first news they had was from the tinker. He crept to the cottage door early on the second morning. He’d met one of his fellow tinkers as he was traveling on to the next town, and the story he’d heard had made him turn around to find Agatha.

He stood on the doorstep as he recounted the tale, not wanting to cross the threshold bearing news this heavy.

“They say he turned into a wolf,” the man told her, his voice hushed. “The witch took his heart.”

“Right,” Agatha said, “That’s that then.”

“What’s what, Granny?” Regina asked, coming in from the kitchen.

“Maurice is dead,” Agatha said flatly, the shock making her careless. 

Regina’s wail brought Agatha back to herself.

The girl’s eyes had gone entirely dark, her hands were filling with power, her face contorted into a rictus of fury.

“I’ll _kill_ her!” Regina screamed. “I’ll rip her heart out!”

She started to make towards the door. The tinker scrambled backwards to get out of her way, and fled towards his cart. Agatha raised her arm and slapped Regina sharply across the face.

The girl snarled and turned to her; her eyes were pools of dark rage.

Agatha hit her again.

“Regina! You get ahold of yourself this minute! If you burn this cottage down, you will _never_ hear the end of it!”

Regina shook her head, groaning, as though she were coming out of a daze. Agatha’s words had reached her just as sharply as the shock of the slap had. The tears came now, flooding over her eyes and staining her cheeks.

“She killed him.”

“I know,” Agatha said, her own voice breaking.

Regina collapsed against Agatha’s shoulder, and the two women clung to each other, weeping.

 

Agatha recovered first.

“We have to go,” she said, pushing Regina gently but firmly from her. “Start packing. We’ll only take the essentials.”

“We’re going to find her?” Regina snarled.

“No, dear. We’re going to find someplace safe for you. She is coming this way. We’re going to be elsewhere when she gets here.”

“But, _Granny!”_ Regina protested.

“But me no buts, my dear.” Agatha took a shuddering breath. “I’ve already lost Maurice to that witch. Do you want me to lose you too?”

Regina gasped. “That is unfair,” she said in a small voice.

“Perhaps. But that’s what I’ll get if we go after your mother now. She’s too powerful for an old woman like me. And you’re not good enough with the magic to face her.”

Regina argued and cajoled, but in the end, she listened. If she’d been on her own, she would have set off to find her mother, regardless of how out-matched she may be. But she wouldn’t leave Granny to face a future without Maurice alone. Vengeance was not worth that.

 

***

 

When they were packed and dressed for the road, Agatha stood on the doorstep, musing.

“Not sure where’s the best place to head to. Anita always said there were old wolfpacks up in the mountain. There may be strength in numbers.”

“I have an idea, Granny,” Regina said.

When she’d told her the plan, Agatha said it was the maddest thing she’d ever heard. It was so crazy in fact, it just might work.

The journey took over a week; they stuck to hidden pathways, away from the main roads and any villages; they only stopped at remote farmhouses when their supplies were running dangerously low. When they finally got to their destination, Regina knew that Granny was exhausted - the older woman had stopped complaining about the aches and pains in her feet three days ago, and that was the surest sign she was struggling. 

“We’ll stop here for a while,” Regina said, indicating a small inn on the outskirts of the town.

“Someone may recognise you,” Agatha said, shaking her head. “We should just stock up on supplies, and head back into the woods. Make camp out there.”

“I was a child when I left here,” Regina countered, looking at the narrow streets and ragged buildings she only barely recalled. “And I never really left the manor house. No one’s going to remember me, Granny. A hot meal and a soft bed - just for tonight - then we can go back to sleeping on the ground. Okay?”

Agatha sighed. “Okay. But you keep your hood up. And we take a table in the corner, away from the light.”

“Yes, Granny.”

As they ducked into the inn, Regina couldn’t help but think, of all the ways she had dreamed and imagined her homecoming, nothing had ever come close to this - skulking back, road weary and travel stained, to hide from her mother right under her nose.


	5. Chapter 5

The inn was small, and the tables and benches simply made, but it was surprisingly clean and welcoming inside. Agatha did the talking, securing them a tiny table in a dark corner. There were only a handful of other patrons in the common room, but Agatha did not want to take any chances. 

She ordered them bowls of soup and hanks of good bread, fresh from the baker’s oven, and negotiated a space to sleep that night. She was convincing enough about her snoring that the landlord allowed her to have the smallest room in the inn all to themselves, instead of having them share one of the larger rooms with two other guests.

Agatha had a pleased smile on her face when she returned to the table, bearing two mugs of weak ale.

“That’ll wash the dust out of our throats,” she said, as she placed a mug in front of Regina.

Regina sipped gratefully, scanning the room over the rim of the tankard.

The inn keeper’s woman was walking towards them, balancing bowls of soup and bread on a tray. 

“Here you go, my dears,” she said as she set the bowls down. “Made it myself. From our own chickens, if I may say. You won’t get better, not anywhere in-“

She broke off when she caught sight of Regina’s face. 

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

Regina snarled, hand going for the knife at her belt just as Agatha was saying, “You’re mistaken. We’ve never been here before.”

“No, really. It’s all right!” the woman whispered, holding her hands up placatingly. “I’m a friend.”

“A friend?” Regina growled. “I have no friends here.”

“It was me,” the innkeeper pressed on. “I told you to hope for the dragon. Oh, don’t you remember?”

“You…you were the _washerwoman?”_ Regina said.

The innkeeper nodded, pleased. “I was, back then. Me and my husband bought this inn only last year.”

“Sit down,” Agatha hissed, “People are starting to look.”

The woman plopped down onto a stool.

“Oh, I’m _so_ glad to see you! You look well!”

“You told me about the dragon,” Regina said. “How did you know it would come for me?”

“I didn’t,” the woman admitted with a shrug. “But I hoped.”

“How did the dragon know? About me.”

“I..umm..I told her.”

_“You_ did? Why?”

“She saved me once. Took me away from a father who saw nothing but the dowry he’d get for me. I thought that you could use a friend like that. So I told her about you.”

“You did save me,” Regina said, her voice tinged with wonder.

The woman smiled, and took her hand. “I’m so happy to see you. All grown up and doing well. But…why have you come back?”

“My mother-“

“Ahh, she’s not here. She’s off scouring the country -“

“I know. That’s why we’re here. I’m hiding from her.”

“Smart,” the woman nodded. “Hide in the last place she’d think to look for you.”

_“Is_ she looking for me, then?”

“Oh, I thought you knew. For the last year or so, ever since the Queen passed on, she’s mounted a campaign to find you and bring you home.”

Agatha frowned. “We’d best not linger, Regina.”

Regina nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”

The innkeeper patted Regina’s had again. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. My name’s Kathryn, by the way. But most everyone calls me Kate.”

“Thank you Kate,” Regina said glumly as she started eating her now-cold soup. “You wouldn't happen to know anyone who could give me magic lessons, do you?”

“Not me. But the dragon might.”

“The dragon?”

“Yes. Didn’t you notice? When she took you back to her castle. She was always doing little magic tricks to amuse me.”

“She didn’t take me to her castle,” Regina said. “She left me in the woods.”

“Oh,” Kate said. “That’s a bit odd. But…well…she did seem very angry when I saw her last. Perhaps she’d tired of bringing people home with her. Anyway. She’s a powerful magician. Maybe she knows someone who can teach you.”

“Perhaps,” Regina said thoughtfully. “Do you know where I can find the dragon?”

“Oh, yes. It’s not an easy journey, but I remember the way.”

“Right,” Agatha said. “If you can point us to where we can buy some supplies, we’ll be on our way. Off to find the dragon.”

“Oh no, Granny.You’re not coming with me.”

“Now look here-“

“It’ll be too dangerous. If my mother is looking for me, I don’t want her finding you too.”

“Regina-“

“She’s already taken Grandpa from me. I can’t risk losing you too.”

“What..why..you little..minx!”

“Please, Granny.”

Agatha sighed. “I suppose you’d be happier thinking of me sleeping on the ground out in the woods?”

“Oh, you can stay here,” Kate said helpfully.

“Can’t afford your prices,” Agatha bit back.

“I wasn’t thinking to charge you!”

“I don’t take charity!”

“Oh that’s all right. You can help out around here if you like.” She patted her stomach, where the swell was just growing more pronounced. “I’ve got a little one in here who tires me out! I could do with the extra hands.”

“Granny’s a good cook,” Regina said.

“Oh, wonderful!” Kate said, clapping her hands. “That’s all settled then? I’ll just go let Phillip know!”

“Yes. Wonderful,” Agatha muttered. “You’ve just made me an indentured servant to the _chirpiest_ person I’ve ever met.”

Regina laughed, but her mind was distracted by thoughts of the dragon.

 

***

 

Kate took Agatha with her to stock up on supplies for Regina’s journey to the dragon’s castle. The inn had no cart or donkey to spare, so Regina would have to make the journey on foot. Agatha insisted that Regina stayed secluded in the inn to rest and prepare herself for the trek - although truth be told, she was too nervous about Regina being out in public where someone may remember her.

Regina sat bundled up in the corner, glowering under her hood as she waited impatiently for Granny to return. A few more customers came in, lowly footmen or manor labourers from the looks of it; Regina recognised her family’s colours and crest on the men’s jerkins. They took a seat at a table not too far from Regina, and she huddled deeper into her hood. The men were so close, she could catch bits and pieces of their conversation; she strained to hear more, curious to learn anything she could about her old home.

At first she only caught disjointed bits - odd words and fragments of sentences - until the ale had done its work and loosened their tongues. The men spoke more freely then, seemingly not caring who could hear. They certainly did not notice the quiet hooded figure in the corner.

“Any news from her ladyship? She’s been gone long enough. Not that I’m complaining!”

“Not much. She’s still up in the backside of nowhere.”

“Better her than us I say!”

They laughed uproariously at this display of wit.

“What do you think of it all though? Would the King really…”

“They say his Majesty’s after a rare beauty.”

“Aye. The Queen was fair.”

“You saw her?”

“Once. As you say - a rare beauty.”

“And the Lady Regina?”

“Who’s to say? It’s been so long now. But if she favours her mother - she may be attractive enough to catch the fancy of the King.”

“And if she doesn’t -?”

“Her ladyship has her ways and means.”

“She has to find her first.”

“Aye.”

 

***

 

Regina had known from childhood that her mother had plans for her advancement through marriage. But the idea that she was plotting to have Regina marry the King…even Granny was rendered speechless when she heard the news.

“My mother’s always been mad for power,” Regina said glumly. “I don’t think she ever forgave my father for daring to be a lesser son of a royal line that amounted to nothing.”

“You need that dragon’s help more than ever,” Agatha said at last. 

She walked with Regina until the path entered the dark woods. She hugged her fiercely. 

“You look after yourself, child,” she said, her voice gruff with unshed tears. “And I’ll be looking for your pigeons, back at the inn. Do not forget to write. Or I’ll come out there and box your ears - dragon or no dragon.”

Regina held back tears of her own, ineffectively hiding them behind forced laughter. She hadn’t spent a night away from Granny in five years, and she was realising just how much she was going to miss the old woman. She returned the fierce hug with equal measure.

“I’ll write,” she promised.

The pigeons were Philip’s idea; he’d learned about them when Kate worked as a washerwoman up at the manor house. Using pigeons was how the scattered landsmen kept in contact with Regina’s father, Sir Henry, their fieflord. Philip had borrowed the idea and trained up a small flock of pigeons of his own; he’d use them to send information back and forth to various inns through the forest, passing on warnings of threatening weather or rowdy customers who hadn’t paid their bills, or messages between travellers. It was part of the reason their little inn was growing in popularity.

He’d given Regina three pigeons to take with her, along with very strict instructions for their care, several bags of good seed, and tiny slips of paper and fine-nibbed pens. She carried the birds in a large wicker basket slung across her shoulder, and their gentle cooing kept her company as she walked along the gloomy path under the trees.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maleficent and Regina strike a bargain

The dragon’s castle was just as Kate had described it; large and foreboding, hidden in the darkest, densest part of the woods. Regina faltered when she saw it, but then she remembered what had driven her this far, and she squared her shoulders and marched on. 

She walked up to the heavy, brass-bound, door, wearing a boldness around her that she did not quite feel. She rapped sharply on the door, grimacing with the pain of her knuckles connecting with unforgiving wood. She made a fist and pounded. Receiving no response, no sign she had even been heard, Regina unhooked her knife from her belt, and beat the brass hilt against the brass straps that bound the door, until the wood was fairly vibrating with the force of her blows and the clanging of metal on metal had nearly deafened her.

The door finally flew open.

“What?!”

Regina stared up at the dragon. 

She’d been only a child when she’d seen the dragon last, and she’d been exhausted and shaken from a night of flying; she’d convinced herself that her memory of scale and fang and _hugeness_ was tainted by that. That nothing could be that big, or that terrifying.

She discovered her childhood memories had been all too accurate.

“You saved me once,” she stammered, the words springing unbidden to her tongue.

“Oh, not again,” the dragon groaned. “I don’t save humans anymore!”

“Why not?”

“Because you are ungrateful and duplicitous.”

The dragon lowered its head as it prepared to turn away from her, and Regina felt her chance slipping through her fingers.

“You left me in the woods!” she cried.

The dragon paused. “Ah. That was _you.”_

“Perhaps if you hadn’t just _abandoned_ me in the woods, I’d have been able to say thank you.”

The dragon sniffed. “I didn’t abandon you. There was a cottage nearby with two people who- Oh! I don’t have to explain myself to _you!”_

“I need your help.”

“I’ve already saved you.”

“Please. My mother - she wants me to marry the King.”

“And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“Teach me magic.”

“I told you I don’t-. Wait. Say that again.”

“Teach me magic. Please.”

“Why? Why would you ask for _that?”_

“So I can fight back. My mother is a powerful witch. And I-“

“So you can do _what?”_

Regina looked confused, not clear on what the dragon was asking for. “Fight back?” she hazarded.

The dragon grunted. “In all the years I’ve saved…do you know, you’re the first one who’s ever surprised me?”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I don’t _want_ to be married to the King!”

The dragon shrugged, an impressive sight in one with quite so much shoulder and wing.

“What’s in it for me?”

“You…you’ve never asked for payment before. Kate said-“

“Saving damsels is easy. You just swoop in, rip out a wall or two, and carry them off. Easy. But _teaching_. That’s an entirely different proposition. Why would I go through all that bother and strain? What’s in it for me?”

“I’m strong,” Regina said. “And I’m good with….do you _have_ horses?”

The dragon made a choking sound that it took a few seconds for Regina to recognise as laughter.

“Are you offering to let me _ride_ you?” the dragon asked, her voice arch and coy. “I would have to decline. You are _far_ too young.”

“No!” Regina denied, her face flushing for a reason she did not understand. “I meant - I can look after your horses. Muck out the stables and so forth.”

“Oh. I see. Why would a dragon need horses? They’re barely enough for a snack between meals.”

“You eat _horses?!”_ Regina gasped, eyes wide in horror.

The dragon shrugged again. “Only when I have no other choice.”

Regina gulped, her resolve faltering. Then she saw something in the dragon’s eye, a gleam of something that looked like amusement and challenge. Regina felt the heat flare up in her belly in response.

“I can cook and clean.”

“And that would interest me because?”

“Because I can clean your castle.”

“It’s not a castle! It’s a _lair!_ And what’s wrong with it?” She turned her head so she could look over her shoulder at the impressive interior of her lair, all wide corridors and high ceilings, crowded with all her treasures on display.

“It’s _filthy,”_ Regina said. “The dust comes up to my ankles!”

“How dare you!” the dragon roared.

“Do you enjoy sneezing every time you take a step?”

“You are insolent!”

“And you are in need of a housekeeper!”

“You’re offering your services as a scullerymaid in exchange for me teaching you about the powerful and ineffable secrets of magic?”

“…I’m not sure what ineffable means, but…yes.”

The dragon made that choking sound of laughter again.

“Can you read?”

“Yes!”

“Very well. You can stay for a week. If at the end of the week I have not burned you to a crisp, I will teach you magic.”

Regina gulped again. “What am I supposed to do for the week.”

“Just as you said, cook and clean.”

Regina stared at her. “Cook?”

“I have kitchens.”

“I’ve never roasted anything larger than a chicken,” Regina said hesitantly. “And I think it would take an awful lot of chickens to feed you.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” the dragon said. A flare of purple smoke wreathed around her body, and when it faded, a woman stood in her place. She was tall and very fair, her hair long and sleek, her eyes a piercing blue, her mouth bright against her pale skin.

“Oh,” Regina murmured.

“You may call me Maleficent,” the dragon said. “Or the Mistress of all Evil. Whichever you prefer. Now, follow me. I’ll show you the kitchens.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping for a dragon isn't for the faint of heart.

Maleficent showed Regina the kitchens and the room where she’d sleep, and then disappeared into the recesses of the lair. It all happened so quickly, Regina had no time to ask about the magic that transformed the dragon into a human woman; she barely had the time to remind herself to not gawk at the woman, or their surroundings, as though she were nothing more than an easily-impressed yokel.

When she was alone, Regina explored the lair a little more thoroughly. It was an enormous building, built wide and high enough to accommodate a dragon. The second floor rooms led off from a narrow balcony, leaving room for great hall of lofty walls and high ceilings. It reminded Regina of paintings and drawings of cathedrals she’d seen hanging on her father’s walls, or in old books.

The dust lay thickly-layered over everything, and the rooms were a crowded mishmash of oddities and treasures, piled any-which-way, with no sense of order or reason. Regina groaned when she realised the enormity of the task she had undertaken.

But then, she reasoned, there was no point in complaining now. She’d have to impress the dragon if she wanted her magic lessons. So she searched through the scullery until she found water pumps, and buckets and mops and dusters and soap, then rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

By the time she’d made a significant dent in clearing up the main entryway, she was too exhausted to do anything more than fall into bed.

 

***

In the morning, muscles aching and sore, she rolled out of bed and scrubbed herself clean in a tub of warm water. She put her soiled clothing aside, promising herself she’d find time later in the day to go out behind the kitchens and do her laundry in one of the big stone basins she’d seen there. She dressed then turned to make up her bed, but found, to her surprise, that it was already made. The sheets were clean and unwrinkled and smelled of lavender and sunshine.

Regina frowned and concentrated her senses; she could feel the faint pricklings of magic around the bed, but nowhere else in the room. This must be an enchanted bed, she decided. She sighed. Perhaps she could persuade the dragon to teach her _that_ spell, and cut her hours of drudgery down to nothing.

But there was no sign or sound of the dragon, and Regina’s stomach was growling to be fed.

She made her way to the kitchen, and put on a pot of water to boil. She’d unpacked her supplies yesterday, and they sat huddled together in one corner, looking very lost and lonely in the vast empty spaces of the kitchen storeroom.

She had made a batch of porridge before the dragon made an appearance.

Maleficent was in human form, wearing something light and frothy, with a plunging neckline, and her hair a riot of golden curls around her face.

Regina gulped. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Maleficent demanded imperiously, taking the head seat at the long table.

“Porridge,” Regina stammered, ladling out a bowlful and placing it before the dragon. She set a spoon beside the bowl, and stepped back.

The dragon examined the porridge. Her lip curled in distaste. She picked up the spoon and prodded it, looking highly offended when it did nothing more than make a glooping noise.

“This is _porridge?”_ she asked.

“Yes,” Regina replied.

“With a name like that, I thought it’d be more exciting. What’s it made of?”

“Mostly oats.”

The dragon pushed the spoon back into the porridge and tried to move it around; she looked like a dainty lady attempting to lift the edge of the tablecloth to find where the smell was coming from.

“Where’s the meat?” the dragon asked.

“There’s no meat in porridge!”

The dragon grunted. “Is this really the best you could offer me for breakfast?”

Regina spluttered in indignation before she could find her voice to formulate words. “Your kitchens are empty! The only food in here is what I brought with me! And all I have is bird seed, oats, and some dried fruit and nuts! And I had _those_ for dinner!”

“Humph,” the dragon said in an affronted tone. She placed the spoon on the table and got to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Regina demanded angrily.

“To find some breakfast,” the dragon replied loftily, and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving Regina staring after her in impotent fury.

 

***

Regina was so furious, she’d managed to clean out the rest of the entryway and make a start on the ground-floor rooms before the dragon returned. She’d muttered increasingly incendiary imprecations into the silence of the crowded rooms as she’d dusted and washed and rearranged, her tiredness and aches burned away in the blaze of her anger.

When the dragon did return, she was back in dragon form. She tucked her wings away as she entered the doorway, and strutted triumphantly down the hall towards the kitchen. A large leather bag, about as long as Regina was tall, hung from her mouth. 

Regina stormed after the dragon.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “And what is that?”

The dragon opened her mouth, allowing the bag to drop with a thump to the tabletop.

“Hunting,” she said.

“If there’s half a dead deer in there-“ Regina said warningly, reaching over to pull the bag open. “Oh.”

The bag was filled with all sorts of things. Potatoes and carrots jostled by cabbages and big leafy greens nestled against straw-wrapped eggs and cheeses. Four chickens and a rooster lay trussed at the top of the bag, staring back at her with maddened glares. They had pecked a string of holes into one of the loaves of bread. There were mushrooms, and tomatoes, and turnips with the earth still clinging to them. There were brown-paper packages tied up with string (containing meat, if the red-stained edges were any clue).

“Oh.” Regina said again. “Where did all this come from?”

“Dragons can forage too,” Maleficent said smugly, enjoying the surprise on Regina’s face.

“Did you _steal_ this?” Regina asked, unable to help herself; she’d heard too many stories of dragons taking sheep off the open hills for the thought not to cross her mind.

The dragon huffed, and turned to stalk away.

“I expect something better than porridge for my dinner!” she said haughtily as she left.

“You forgot the onions!” Regina called.

The dragon’s voice carried faintly back to her. “Make do!”

 

There were slabs of fried steak and mushrooms and piles of roast potatoes with butter on the table that evening.

Maleficent sat down to her meal with a contented sigh.

They ate in silence for a while, until Maleficent had worked her way through half her steak. Then she looked up from her plate, fixed Regina with a thoughtful look, and said, “So you want to learn magic.”

“I do,” Regina said eagerly.

“Magic isn’t like…learning to cook,” Maleficent told her. “Not just anyone can learn to do it. You need a talent. An ability. I should have-“

Regina held out her hand, frowned in concentration, and called a burst of flame to her palm. It flickered out, then flared back to life, flickered and lingered for a few seconds, then faded away, leaving nothing but a trace of smoke in the air.

“Hmm. So you do have _some_ talent. When did it manifest?”

“When I was thirteen or so…five years ago.”

Maleficent laughed. “Five years, and that little spurt of fire is the best you can manage?”

Regina bristled. “It’s not like I had a teacher to show me how to improve!”

Maleficent shrugged. “Fair enough. How many people did you kill? After your power manifested.”

_“Kill?_ …I…why..none! No people! There was a wild boar - but -”

“How many people did you maim, then?”

“None!”

“Injure?”

“Why do you keep asking-“

“Did you at least inconvenience anyone?”

“Will you stop-! I didn’t hurt _anyone!_ Except for that wild boar, and he’d have hurt Grandpa if I hadn’t!”

“So, you were a child, filled with a sudden power, and you didn’t use it against anyone…anyone at all?”

“No!”

“How did you manage that?” Maleficent asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t! Grandpa would take me off with him into the woods and Granny would talk to me and hug me…and I just didn’t. Why? Is it important?”

Maleficent arched a surprised eyebrow. “It seems you did have teachers. Whether they realised it or not, your grandparents taught you control. That may come in handy.”

The dragon grew silent and thoughtful, eventually pushing her plate back and leaving the kitchen with her dinner only half-eaten on her plate.

 

***

 

The following afternoon, Maleficent stalked into the great hall, in dragon form, bellowing for Regina.

“What?” Regina demanded from the second floor balcony. She’d been scrubbing the stairs, and they gleamed.

“Why are the stairs so shiny?” Maleficent asked, squinting at them worriedly.

“They’re shiny because they’re clean!”

“Is that safe?”

“Of course it’s safe!” Regina said, exasperated. “It’s how they _should_ be!”

“Hmm. If you say so.”

“Where have you been all morning, anyway? You missed breakfast. I made bacon.”

“I was in the garden, in quiet contemplation.”

Regina frowned. “Is that just a fancy way of saying you were napping?”

The dragon made the choking sound of her laughter, then looked surprised with herself.

“No,” she said stuffily. “I was in quiet contemplation. And now I’d like some tea. Fetch me a tray.”

“A tray?”

“Yes, I like to take my afternoon tea out in the rose garden.”

“Of course you do,” Regina sighed. “It may take a while to boil up a cauldron large enough for you to drink from.”

“Hmm? Oh.” The dragon glanced down at herself. “Sorry. I forgot. I’ll change.” Her magic flared, and she stood before Regina in human form. She was wearing another form-fitting gown, but her hair was sleek and smooth this time. 

Regina sighed.

“I’ll be waiting,” Maleficent called as she made her way back to the garden.

 

While the tea was brewing, Regina made some sandwiches using the left-over breakfast bacon. After a little thought, she cut the crusts off the slices of bread, then cut the sandwiches into a pile of dainty triangles; it was the sort of thing that would not have looked out of place on her mother’s table. 

She loaded up a tray and carried it carefully out into the garden. Maleficent was in the centre of the garden, reclining on a cushioned seat that looked like a hollowed-out cocoon woven out of wicker. Regina was so focused on not spilling anything, it wasn’t until she’d placed the tray on a nearby table that she paid any attention to her surroundings.

The garden was a riot of colour, and the scent of roses filled the air.

“It’s beautiful,” Regina said softly.

“Don’t let me keep you from your stair scrubbing,” Maleficent said.

Regina glared at her, and stomped away.

 

Maleficent wasn’t at breakfast the next day either. And she didn’t come demanding afternoon tea. Dinner was a quiet affair, but the dragon seemed apologetic for her bad behaviour and allowed Regina to ask her questions about magic, most of which she answered.

When Regina went to bed that night, she found a stack of books by her bedside, and a piece of paper bearing only an untidily-scrawled word: _Read._

The books were mostly records of spells and histories of magic, and Regina found them very hard going after a full day of scrubbing and cleaning. She settled on reading a large leather-bound tome, mostly because, when she flipped through the pages, she saw drawings.

It turned out this book was a sort of dictionary, but instead of just listing words and their meanings, it told little stories of where words came from and how they’d developed over time, and Regina found it strangely fascinating.

 

The next afternoon, Maleficent was ‘quietly contemplating’ in the garden, her snores shaking the leaves of the tree under which she was curled.

Regina came storming up to her, uncaring of the fact that she may be disturbing the dragon.

“I am _not_ duplicitous!” she cried.

The dragon opened one long-lashed eye and looked lazily at Regina.

“Ah. You’ve started to read the dictionary then.”

“What other insulting things have you been calling me?!”

“You’re just going to have to keep reading and find out, aren’t you?”

“You are the most..most… _asinine_ of creatures! I _will_ learn the meaning of everything you say, and then…well…then you’ll see!”

The dragon laughed quietly. “And you’ve not even got to ‘tenacious’ yet.”

Regina growled, turned to stomp away, stopped, turned back, and demanded, “How do you spell tenacious?”

Maleficent sighed happily. She closed her eye again. “Work it out.”

 

The dragon was napping under a different tree the next afternoon, when Regina came back out into the garden. She was carrying a tray of tea things, including a seed cake she’d baked specially that morning.

She set the tray down and prodded Maleficent until she woke.

“What’s all this?” the dragon asked sleepily, sniffing appreciatively at the tea.

“I _am_ tenacious,” Regina said proudly. “Thank you.”

Maleficent snorted.

Regina walked away, leaving the dragon to change in peace.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment!” Maleficent called after her. But there was a smile in her voice that made Regina smile too.

 

Maleficent was at breakfast the next morning, in human form; her hair was curled and piled on her head, exposing a long neck; and if the explosion of feathers on the neckline of her gown was intended to mask what the neckline revealed, it failed spectacularly. 

Regina was already flushed from frying bacon, but she still felt her face grow warmer.

“I’ll be out this morning,” Maleficent said, as she wolfed down bacon on slabs of thickly buttered hot toast. “I likely won’t be back for tea. I feel like stretching my wings today.”

“Oh. Okay,” Regina said softly, a little disappointed. “I’m nearly done with the second floor. I may read some more.”

“Feel free to use the rose garden,” Maleficent said. “It’s a good spot for reading.”

Regina smiled.

 

When Regina walked through the lair now, she felt a sense of pride. Everything gleamed. Everything had a place - a logical place - displaying the treasures Maleficent had gathered over her long life to their best effect. There still were a few rooms upstairs that needed some final touches, but on the whole, she was nearly done with her mammoth task. She reckoned she deserved an afternoon off.

She brewed herself some tea, sliced up the remainder of the seed cake, put all of that plus one of the less-boring histories on a tray, and went out into the rose garden. She climbed up onto the cushioned seat, propped herself up with pillows, and tried to not fall asleep as she read.

She had mostly succeeded - had read an entire chapter - when Maleficent returned.

She swooped to land directly into the garden, not bothering to come through the front door. She stumbled when she came to ground, folding only one wing back; the other she kept held extended. 

Regina noticed the blood dripping off the edge of the wing.

“You’re hurt!” she cried, tossing the book to the ground and dashing over to Maleficent. As she got closer, she could make out a jagged tear in the dragon’s skin, high on her chest, just under the joint where her wing met her body. “What happened?”

“Stray arrow,” Maleficent said with a grimace. “Dragon hunters.”

“Who’s hunting you?!”

“There’s always dragon hunters,” Maleficent said with a sigh. “

“Can you heal yourself? Do I need to bar the doors? Where are they?!”

“Regina. Calm yourself, little one. I wasn’t followed. I left them far behind.”

“You’re hurt,” Regina said again, her voice high-pitched with worry.

“I know,” Maleficent groaned, shifting uncomfortably. “I can’t heal myself. I’m going to need your help.”

“You’re going to teach me healing magic?” Regina gasped, “Now?!”

Maleficent managed a short pant of laughter. “No, little one. But I can’t reach the wound. You’re going to have to mix up a potion and apply it for me.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Tell me what to do.”

Maleficent gave her a long list of instructions, and Regina disappeared into the lair at great speed. She returned, hauling a large cauldron in which she’d piled all the ingredients and implements Maleficent had asked for. Following Maleficent’s instructions carefully, Regina measured and stirred and measured and stirred again, until finally it was time for the last ingredient.

“If it turns bright green when you add that in, we know everything has been done right,” Maleficent said tiredly. She was leaning up against a wall for support.

Regina stirred the final ingredient in with determination, sighing with relief when the sludge-brown potion suddenly became incandescently green.

“Good,” Maleficent breathed. She shifted a bit and raised her wing, groaning when she felt the strain of it in her wound.

Regina dipped a clean mop into the cauldron, reached up, and slathered the potion over Maleficent’s injury. 

The dragon hissed when the mop-head made contact, but she stood still while Regina tended to her.

“What were you doing to catch the attention of dragon hunters?” Regina asked, to distract them both.

“I was just out flying. But then there was a woman.”

“Oh?” Regina asked, a little acerbically. “What woman?”

“Never seen her before,” Maleficent said. “I heard her weeping. It was her wedding day and she didn’t want to be married.”

“So you carried her off?”

“I did. I’m out of practice though. Flew too low. And too slow. The dragon hunters caught up to us.”

“I thought dragon hide was tougher than diamonds. How did an arrow hurt you?”

The cauldron was nearly empty now, the wound mostly covered, but Regina wanted to hear the answer to this question, so she slowed the movement of the mop.

“As all things do, I’ve got a weak spot.”

“And the dragon hunters know about it?” The worry was back in her voice now.

“No, Regina,” Maleficent said reassuringly. “This was a lucky strike. It caught me at just the right angle. See. It’s only torn me, not pierced. And I was away before they ever realised they’d scored a hit.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“I wish I could bind your wound,” Regina said. “But you’re too big, and too tall for me to reach.”

Maleficent grinned, baring a mouth of sharp teeth.

“You’ve done an excellent job. I’ll be right as rain by morning.”

Regina frowned, like she didn’t quite believe her.

“I’ll just have a little-“

“Quiet contemplation?” Regina cut in with a wry smile.

“Hah. Yes.”

“What about dinner?”

“Sleep will do me more good than food just now,” Maleficent said. “You’ve done all you can, Regina. Thank you.”

Regina nodded. She picked up the cauldron and mop to carry them back to the lair. She paused and looked up at Maleficent. “What happened to the woman?”

“She’s safe,” Maleficent assured her. “I brought her to your friend, Kate.”

“Oh. Good.” Regina said with a smile.

 

A few hours later, Maleficent woke to find Regina lying on the ground beside her. She’d brought out a blanket and some cushions and made a sort of nest for herself. She clutched a wooden staff in her hand. From the way she was lying, Maleficent surmised that Regina had started out sitting up, but had fallen asleep and crumpled to the ground.

Maleficent reached out a careful talon and rearranged Regina into a more comfortable position, drawing the blanket up to her shoulders. She curled her tail protectively around Regina’s sleeping form.

“Sleep well, little one,” she whispered. “Tomorrow we start your lessons.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons in magic

Magic lessons, Regina discovered, involved a lot of standing still and thinking about things. This was not how she remembered her mother performing magic. Mother had shouted and waved her hands about and great gouts of billowing smoke had gone everywhere when she cast a spell.

Maleficent sighed when she told her this.

“Whoever taught your mother enjoyed intimidation,” the dragon said. “But power does not have to be loud to be intimidating.”

Regina thought it was a little disingenuous for a dragon with a twenty metre wingspan and fangs the length of an arm to be so dismissive of the advantage of a show of power. But she tried to be subtle when she cast, using smooth flicks and turns of her wrists rather than the grand gestures she’d seen her mother use. She found it took more concentration to channel her power when she restricted her movements, and she had to be incredibly precise in targeting her intent. At first, this resulted in a lot of miscasts, and she heard Maleficent’s choking laugh a lot - like when she’d try for fireballs and release clouds of butterflies instead. 

The dragon was far less amused when Regina was learning a transmogrification spell, and kept producing only onions and nothing else. She was even less pleased when they sat down to a dinner of onion soup and toasted onion-flavoured bread. (If Regina later kept practicing that particular spell in private, so that she could deliberately produce onions whenever she wanted, rather than waiting and hoping for a happy accident, she did not mention it to her teacher)

 

To Regina’s dismay, magic lessons also involved reading lots of spell books, a task she found tedious and dull.

“You _must_ read!” Maleficent told her. “And not just read; commit them to memory.”

“But it’s so _boring!”_ Regina complained. “Can’t I just make up my own spells as-“

“As your mother did?” 

“I never saw my mother read a spell book,” Regina groused. 

“Perhaps she practiced where you could not see?” Maleficent pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Regina admitted with a sigh. That was exactly the sort of thing Mother _would_ do. Pretend her power was effortless so she could tell Regina _her_ struggles and bumbling attempts proved she could never hope to replicate her mother’s successes. 

“Think of spells as a good map. They tell you the direction to lead your power. But they also tell you other things. Which short cuts are useful, and which to avoid. They show you where it is safe for you rest, so you can gather your power for a bigger demand later in the spell. When you’re better at it - when you’re more experienced - you can set off on a journey without one. But not now. You’re a new explorer, Regina. You _need_ a map.”

Regina frowned sourly, but she read the spell book Maleficent gave her. She’d stay up late, pouring over the dull pages, until one night something shifted and the words began to stitch together in her head to paint pictures - patterns of force that she could somehow _see -_ and she could anticipate what effect disrupting or changing those patterns would have. She read through the night, devouring page after page, and marveling how every spell re-ordered her world in some way and let her look at things in different ways.

The next morning, she was so sleepy she managed to burn the porridge. But when she told Maleficent of her breakthrough, the dragon beamed and made no complaint about her meal being inedible. She handed Regina two new spell books and sent her off to the rose garden to spend the day.

Maleficent left Regina alone to the garden, saying she needed to stretch her wings again. It was late afternoon when she returned; she found Regina curled up in the cushioned seat, asleep, the spell book tipped forward onto her chest. Maleficent took her human form and settled in behind the girl; she picked the book up, wanting to put it away safely. But her movement woke Regina and she stirred.

“Maleficent?” she said sleepily. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

Regina rolled over and sat up so she was face-to-face with Maleficent. “I was worried. Did you see any more dragon hunters?”

“I saw them. And I flamed them from a height. Sent their horses scurrying. It was great fun to watch.”

“I wish you’d be more careful,” Regina said with a sigh.

“Do not fret, little one. I am careful. They won’t stick me with a lucky arrow again. Now, have you slept enough? We should practice.”

 

As the magic lessons progressed, Regina grew more adept and more confident. She’d see Maleficent beaming with sudden pride whenever she pulled off a particularly intricate spell, and the pleasure she felt would drive her to work even harder. She began to feel a surge of pleasure every time she cast a spell; the more complicated and powerful the spell, the greater the pleasure. She began casting when she was alone, late at night in her room, in the kitchens as she prepared their meals, out in the gardens when Maleficent left her to go hunting.

One day Maleficent left early and did not return until late. She’d told Regina she’d seen another young women weeping over an unwanted betrothal, and she was going to carry her far away, back to the home she’d been taken from. 

Regina spent the day in the rose garden, reading spells and practicing them over and over. She did not pause to eat or drink, but her body seemed to suffer no ill. Instead her limbs grew heavy, languorous with the pleasure of using her power. She felt full, suffused with a tingling light that seeped out of her fingertips whenever she cast. She laughed to see the shimmer of gold that fell every time she moved her hands. She danced through the garden, waving her arms in long slow arcs, trailing a shower of sparks behind her.

When Maleficent returned, gliding in with wings outstretched, Regina could swear she could see the heart of the dragon, thrumming with power in her chest. She wanted to run to Maleficent, to fling herself upon the dragon’s back and urge her up into the sky. She wanted to touch the stars, and knew Maleficent was the creature who could bring her to them.

“Regina?” Maleficent’s voice rumbled and made the ground shake. 

Regina laughed. “You’re home!” she trilled.

“What have you been doing, little one?” Her words fell from her lips and turned into shimmering pearls. Regina wanted to gather every one and hold them close to her breast, to wear them around her neck like a trophy.

“Practicing,” she said, waving her arms to show Maleficent the showers of light she could produce. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Regina, you have to stop.”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“It’s dangerous, little one. You’re using too much. You’ve done too much. You must stop.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. She felt suspicion and jealousy twist at her gut. “You don’t want me to learn. You don’t want me to be powerful! You’re _afraid_ of me!”

Maleficent growled. “Regina, magic is power. And too much power … it can change you. You haven’t learned to channel or harness it safely yet, little one.”

“You want to take my power from me!” She formed her hands into claws; her fingers seemed to lengthen, her nails growing to talons; the spaces in the curves of her palms filled with a glowing, swirling, oily, power.

Maleficent growled. “Remember the lessons your grandparents taught you. Remember your control. I need you to use that now, Regina. I do not want to hurt you. But I will stop you before you hurt yourself.” The dragon’s wings snapped out and she stamped forward, shaking the ground underfoot. “Draw in your power, Regina!” she cried, “Before it consumes you!”

Regina howled, and the dark tendrils started to flow from her hands towards the dragon. 

Maleficent snarled and reared up, her crest flaring as she prepared to strike.

Again, Regina saw the gleaming, pulsing, light that was the dragon’s heart. It sat high in Maleficent’s chest, and Regina knew where the weak spot was. If she struck just there - just under the dragon’s outstretched arm, she’d be able to pierce the heart with her dark power. 

But she could not strike. _Don’t be daft, child,_ she heard Granny say. _Come walk with me, dear,_ her Grandpa called.

She dropped her arms. The oily swirling power dissipated. The feeling of shimmering light drained out of her. She collapsed to her knees.

Maleficent was there, human now, her arms around Regina to keep her from slumping to the ground. “I have you, little one,” she whispered. “That was well done. You can rest now.”

 

When Regina woke, it was already late morning. She found she was still in the rose garden; Maleficent had placed her in the wicker seat, wrapped in blankets. It was the smell of bacon and tea that had brought her back to her senses. There was a plate of food on the table - bacon and toast and a generous slice of cheese. 

Maleficent sat in the other chair, still in human form, watching her thoughtfully. “Eat,” she said.

Regina devoured everything on the plate. 

“What happened to me?” she asked, when her hunger was sated.

“Magic can be a very useful servant. Or it can be a dreadful master. As users of magic, we stand very close to the edge of both of these.”

“It was mastering me?”

“It was enticing, was it not? When the power filled you?”

Regina nodded, her eyes widening as she remembered how light and airy and _potent_ she had felt. “I could have done _anything.”_

“A heady feeling,” the dragon agreed.

“I nearly hurt you.”

“But in the end, you did not. You tamed your power. It did not control you.”

“Was my mother tested like that?”

“She’s a powerful witch?”

“She is.”

“Then yes - she will have faced the same decision you did. Let the magic consume you, or reject its allure and its hold on you.”

“So I’ll never be able to do magic again?”

Maleficent laughed. “Oh no, little one, never fear. Your journey has just begun. But you are a wiser traveller now. And you will grow wiser still, if you are still willing to learn?”

Regina sat up straighter. Her eagerness was tempered now with wariness and a mindfulness of the pitfalls that lay in wait for her. But she was still eager. “I am.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ride gets a bit bumpy from here on out. Cora and Gold are bastards; Regina and Mal both need to chill just a little.

Agatha and Kate sat at the kitchen table; behind them Greeta happily peeled potatoes into a bucket of water. Greeta had been born to a once-wealthy family, but a family who hadn’t lost so much of their status that she had ever had to work in the kitchen; most of her hours were spent on needlepoint and learning to play the harp. When the dragon had saved her and brought her to this inn, Kate and Agatha had been kind, but had eventually insisted that purposeful work was a good way to mend her unhappiness. 

She hadn’t quite believed them, especially not when her hands had become red raw with scrubbing floors, and her back and legs had ached from weeding and harvesting in the kitchen garden. But Kate and Agatha were good companions, shirking none of their share of the work. And Agatha was a fount of stories that made Kate laugh and Greeta blush. Greeta slept soundly at night, not just because she was tired, but because she knew that she was safe here, and among friends.

So she happily peeled potatoes now; she’d put them on to boil and later Agatha would mash them and put them over meat and gravy in a pie that was sure to make their customers happy. Agatha and Kate were chopping carrots and turnips at the table. At least, Kate was chopping and Agatha was opening a little red vial that Phillip had just given her. She extracted a narrow roll of paper, and flattened it out on the table top.

As soon as it was flat, there was a flash of purple, and the little piece of paper expanded until it was about the size of two hands. This show of magic had stopped surprising them now, but the first time it had happened Greeta had shrieked and Agatha had sworn so loudly Phillip had come dashing in to see what the problem was.

Regina’s handwriting was small and fine and filled the page. Agatha settled her spectacles on her nose and started to read:

_Today we’re in the garden again - I don’t think M is ready to leave me on my own just yet. I am fully recovered, I assure you. But she seems to think that I need watching and rest. She still expects afternoon tea though, so perhaps she does not think me quite as invalid as I fear! She has me reading even more books. Which, surprisingly, I am enjoying. The world is so much bigger than I imagined, Granny, and there are so very many strange and wonderful things in it. And not just this world. It turns out there are realms upon realms out there, where we can’t see them, and it makes my head spin to think of it sometimes. My control over my power is growing, and you would be very proud of my dusting. Everything gleams now, and I think she appreciates it. I’ve caught her preening in the silver shields several times, though she denies it! But I do not know when I will be ready. She says it took her a hundred years to grow confident in her power. I think she may be exaggerating. She does not look a day over 80. (When I told her that, she laughed, then called me something I am quite sure is a rude word, but she won't tell me what it means!) So, I do not know when I will see you all again. But I_ _will_ _return as soon as I am strong enough. I will write again tomorrow, R._

Agatha sighed when she’d finished reading Regina’s letter. 

“She sounds well,” Kate said with a level of forced cheerfulness. “And she and the dragon seem to be getting along much better now.” Agatha always seemed a little sad after she read one of Regina’s letters, and it hurt Kate to see her friend in pain.

“Hmmm,” was all Agatha said. She turned the paper over and smoothed it, took a pencil from her pocket, licked the lead and started to write carefully:

_Good you are on the mend. We are all well here. The potatoes have come in nicely. P bagged a stag in the freewood. So it’s been venison all round. And mash and gravy. I hope M is getting her own tea! If she’s lived 100 years, she can surely boil an egg! No news of C. K goes up to the house to talk to the cooks. But still nothing. K and G send their love. P would too I’m sure, but he’s with the birds._

She stopped writing for a while and stared moodily out of the window. Then she sighed and started writing again.

_It_ _is_ _a big world, child. But not so big that you cannot find your way home. Stay warm, and don’t overheat your mind again. Tell that M if she works you too hard, she and I will have words. - G_

When she finished writing her letter, Agatha began to roll up the paper. The magic flared again, and she kept rolling until the page was tiny enough to fit back into the red vial. She’d give it to Phillip later, and he’d attach it to Regina’s pigeon and send it back to her.

 

***

 

Regina was in the kitchen gardens. The seeds she’d planted when she first came to the dragon’s lair had sprouted, and the tidy rows were filling up nicely with all manner of vegetables. Maleficent was good at providing food for the larder, but Regina was very pleased to be able to account for some part of their stores herself. 

She was feeding the chickens when the pigeon from Phillip came fluttering in. She stopped to feed the bird and make sure it had enough water to drink. She almost did not hear the dragon approach until she was already at her shoulder.

“What is that?” Maleficent asked. She was in human form, for which Regina was grateful. The chickens stopped laying for days on end when they saw Maleficent in dragon form.

“It’s my letter from Granny,” Regina said as she pulled the piece of paper from the red vial. She shook out the roll, and it expanded with a flare of purple.

“Oh, that’s clever,” Malefient said softly, and Regina beamed.

“There wasn’t enough room on the little bits of paper Phillip gave me for a proper letter,” Regina said. “So I improvised.”

“Are these your birds?” Maleficent asked, peering into the coop.

“Yes,” Regina said, a little distractedly because she was in the middle of reading Granny’s letter. “That’s how Granny and I send messages to each other.”

“Hmm. I’ve noticed these creatures flying around the lair. It’s a good thing I don’t think birds are worth the effort - all you get is a mouthful of feathers and not much meat for-“

“Maleficent! You cannot eat these pigeons!”

“I just said that they weren’t worth the effort!”

“Honestly, sometimes you make me _so-_ What are you doing here anyway? You don’t like the kitchen gardens.”

“You were gone a while,” Maleficent said, then added hastily, “And I want my tea.”

“I’m not practicing magic on my own,” Regina said, a little snappishly. “You don’t have to spy on me!”

“I’m not!” Maleficent protested. “I just wondered where you’d got to.”

“Well,” Regina said, mollified by the faintly bashful look on Maleficent’s face. “You’ve found me. Come along. I’ll put the kettle on.” She looked thoughtfully at the dragon. “Do you know how to boil an egg?”

“Why?” Maleficent asked suspiciously. 

“Oh no reason,” Regina grinned. “But it’d be good to know you won’t starve if I’m ever not around.”

“I’m a dragon,” Maleficent pointed out, sounding a little confused. “I don’t need to boil an egg. I can _hunt.”_

 

_***_

 

Kate came hurrying into the kitchen; Greeta was out in the garden, so Agatha was alone, stirring something in the pot.

“What’s the matter, Kate?” Agatha demanded, seeing Kate’s agitated face.

“The cooks - they’ve been told to start preparing a feast. Enough food for a company of soldiers.”

“Are we to expect an invasion?”

“No,” Kate shook her head urgently. “All the men Cora took with her are coming back.”

“Cora’s coming home,” Granny spat, making every word a curse.

“Should we tell Regina?” Kate asked. “I can get a pigeon.”

“No. No, let’s wait to be sure. No reason to bother the girl if it’s just a false alarm. Or a bit of exaggerated gossip.”

 

* * *

 

Agatha and Kate hurried through the streets, keeping their heads low and obscured behind heavy shawls. It was mid-morning, but the village was unusually quiet; even the market was subdued, people speaking in hushed voices as they bought and sold their wares, everyone rushing as though they were under a threat of time.

“There she is!” Kate hissed suddenly as she dragged Agatha under a convenient overhang.

Agatha shuffled around so she was hidden by the wall but could still see the market square.

A carriage had pulled up, flanked by ten horses bearing riders heavy with weaponry. The men dismounted and opened the carriage door, lowering the steps and helping the two occupants down to the ground. Agatha had her first view of Cora Mills.

The woman was a dark-haired beauty, and Agatha could see something of Regina in her face - except she had never seen Regina look so cold and calculating.

“Who’s the toff?” Agatha asked quietly, jerking her chin towards Cora’s companion, not daring to do something so obvious as pointing.

“That’s Cora’s teacher,” Kate whispered back. There was an edge of panic to her voice. “Her _mentor_ she called him. Mr. Gold. He comes and goes - we’ve not seen him for a few years now. Not since Regina escaped.”

Mr. Gold was dressed in a sparkling coat that mirrored the colour and shimmer of his name; his coat had a high collar, and he wore ruffles around his wrists and at his neck; the ornate handle of a dagger jutted from a bejeweled scabbard slung low off his belt; his stockings were cross-gartered and the buckles of his pointed shoes shone in the sunlight. But Agatha could see beyond the dandyish costume; the man’s face was sharp, his eyes glittered with malice, and his smile was cruel. She shivered.

“There’s trouble,” she said to Kate, who nodded mutely.

Cora waved a languid hand at her men, and one of them moved to the centre of the square. The villagers flowed back, giving the man room; a few people tried to shuffle away but were stopped and dragged back by the other guards.

“Come along now,” the solider called, his voice booming around the hushed square. “You all know why we’re here. Who has news of the dragon?”

There were head-shakes and mutterings, but no one spoke out loud.

“Don’t keep the Lady Cora waiting. _Some_ one must have seen the dragon today!”

“No, sir! We have not!” one soul, braver than the others, cried out.

“Fetch me that man,” Cora said, her voice gentle.

There was a shout of fear, and the man tried to make a run for it. Two soldiers slammed him to the ground and dragged him back to face Cora.

“You seem to have a lot to say,” Cora said, her mouth pursed thoughtfully.

“No, Milady. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“Do I know you?”

“You…your men…took my brother. Yesterday.”

“Ahh. Yes. The smith. He’s testing the strength of the chains in the dungeons.” She giggled; it was a pretty sound, something you may have heard pass between dainty women at a party. “Do you wish to join him?”

“No, Milady. Please.”

“Then help me. Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t..I’ve never seen the dragon, Ma’am. Please.”

“Well,” Mr. Gold spoke now, his voice cracking out like a whip, sharp and quick. “If you can’t help us one way, perhaps you can help us in another. If you have no knowledge, then serve as a warning to those that _do!”_

He stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his dagger. The villager cowered back, expecting a blow, but Mr. Gold just waved his free hand. A dark cloud billowed from his open hand and wrapped around the terrified man. His scream rent the air. The other villagers turned from the sight, hiding their faces; there were faint sounds of sobbing hastily muffled behind hands and shawls.

The wave of Gold’s power faded, revealing the man frozen in place his hands raised in a futile attempt to ward off the magic that had turned him into a living statue. 

“He will see and hear and _feel_ everything,” Gold said, raising his voice just enough so that the entire square could hear him. “Hunger. Thirst. Everything. The sooner we learn about the dragon, the sooner I will release him.”

There were cries of horror, some that sounded more challenging than others.

“If anyone would like to _join_ him,” Gold said, his teeth glittering as he smiled. “Please. Do make yourselves known.”

The rumblings subsided.

“No one is to move him,” Cora said to her guard. “Or offer him any aid. Guard him well, Captain. Or you’ll be standing right besides him.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“We will _have_ that dragon,” Gold snarled.

 

Agatha and Kate watched from the shadows as Cora and Mr. Gold swept away in the carriage, heading back to the manor house from which Henry Mills governed his fief. 

In the handful of days since Cora had returned however, the governing seemed to have passed into her hands. And her hands were obviously controlled by Mr. Gold. Between them, they had driven the town to fear and alarm, descending on unsuspecting homes, having men and women arrested and dragged off to the manor dungeons for the smallest infractions. 

Kate and Phillip’s little inn was small enough, and distant enough from the main village, that they had escaped more than a cursory notice so far. Not wanting to draw attention, or a deeper interrogation, to the newcomers, they had hidden Agatha and Greeta in the attic. Phillip fed the soldiers who came knocking on their door the finest of his ales, and so they had been friendly enough and only questioned him about his hunting activities in the freewood for two hours. He’d sent them off with packages of sausages and the promise of free drinks whenever they dropped by.

Kate and Agatha decided to risk a visit to the manor kitchens, bearing gifts of vegetables from their garden and venison from Phillip’s hunts. They’d gleaned a few snippets of knowledge. Cora’s search for Regina had been fruitless, but then stories of new sightings of the dragon had reached her - the dragon that stole away young girls. She and Gold were convinced this was the same dragon who had taken Regina; if they found the dragon, they reasoned, then they could force it to tell them Regina’s fate. 

So they had come home to hunt the dragon; half of Cora’s men were out scouring the countryside, while she and Gold terrorised the villagers for any hint of the dragon’s whereabouts. 

Now that she’d seen Cora and Gold in person, Agatha knew what she had to do. She had a piece of Regina’s magic paper, and a pigeon who knew the way to the dragon’s lair. She scrawled an urgent message and sent the pigeon on its way.

 

***

 

Maleficent had Regina practicing a basic transport spell. They had spent the morning dematerialising and re-appearing in all sorts of places - from the distant mountain peaks to the densest part of the woods. Regina was flushed with the effort of exerting her magic, and when they returned to the rose garden, she collapsed into one of the wicker chairs.

“Will it always be so exhausting?” she asked Maleficent.

The dragon showed her teeth in what Regina knew was a smile.

“No. It’ll get easier. With practice.”

Regina studied the dragon. Maleficent had been in human form for most of the morning, but she reverted to her dragon form as soon as they were back within the lair. She was stretching out her wings, flapping them firmly a few times, as though she were shaking a tightness out of her shoulders. Her tail was brushing through the grass; her crest raised and lowered as she stretched her wings. Her scales gleamed in the sunlight. She extended her neck, raising her head to the skies, opened her mouth wide and roared. The force of her strength and power washed off her in waves.

“That’s better,” she muttered, and curled up underneath a tree. “Tea soon?” she asked Regina hopefully.

“Hmm.” Regina nodded. “Soon.” She sat up and leaned forward. “Maleficent…can you teach me to do that?”

“Do what?” the dragon asked, her voice slipping into sleepiness.

“Become a dragon.”

Maleficent snorted. “No.”

“Oh.” Regina was disappointed. “Why not? Do you think the magic will be too difficult for me to master?”

Maleficent straightened, raising her head. “No, Regina. Transformation - it takes too much power. It drains your…for want of a better word…it drains the lifeforce. Whatever it is that keeps your heart beating and the power flowing through you. A transformation like that - you’d last minutes. No more.”

“And then I’d be powerless?”

“And then you’d be dead.”

“Oh.”

“I can teach you a glamour,” Maleficent offered. “You can _appear_ to be anything you want. But it will be an illusion. You cannot _become_ a dragon.”

“What about a wolf?”

“Transform into a wolf?”

“Yes. Could I learn to do that?”

“The same rules apply, little one. You may last longer as a wolf. With your power, you’d probably manage two or three days before it killed you.”

“Granny did say it was harder to transform into the wolf as she got older. That it drained her.”

“Your grandmother is a wolf?” Maleficent asked, surprised.

Regina frowned at her. “Not my _actual_ grandmother. The people you left me with. In the woods. Maurice and Agatha Lucas. They were…did you not _know_ this?”

Maleficent sighed, and looked as shamefaced as a dragon could. “I didn’t exactly _know_ them. I’d seen their cottage as I flew overhead. And they smelt friendly.”

“They smelt friendly.”

“They did!” Maleficent sighed. “Forgive me, Regina. I did not do right by you, when I took you. Thankfully the fates were kinder to you than I was.”

Regina nodded solemnly. “Granny and Grandpa - Agatha and Maurice - they were so good to me. Nothing like Mother or Father. So even though you didn’t exactly plan it, it worked out in the end.”

“For which I am grateful,” Maleficent said softly.

But Regina did not hear her, because she had spotted a pigeon flapping overhead, bearing a red vial on its leg.

“That’s odd,” she said. “I’ve already had a pigeon from Granny.”

 

Regina hurried off to the kitchen garden to collect the letter, and after a few minutes’ hesitation, Maleficent trailed after her.

By the time she got to the garden, Regina was uncurling Granny’s letter. Her face turned ashen as she read it.

“What’s wrong?” Maleficent demanded.

“My mother’s back,” Regina said. She began pacing in her anxiety, waving the letter about. “She’s…she’s _hurting_ people.”

“Regina-“ but the girl was obviously too agitated to hold a conversation. “Let me see,” Maleficent said, changing to human form and reaching out to snag the letter. She scanned it rapidly.

_C is back. With her soldiers. And a scary bugger called Gold. They’re looking for the dragon. Think it’ll lead them to you. They’ve been throwing people in the dungeon. And other things. They’re powerful, child. Worst magic I’ve ever seen. Stay away. It’s not safe for you here. Stay far away!_

“I agree with your grandmother,” Maleficent said.

“What? That I should hide? She’s _hurting_ people. In _my_ name! Because she’s looking for me. I can’t just sit by and do _nothing!”_

“She has warriors. And magic more powerful than anything you’ll have faced-“

“You’ve been teaching me for months!”

“Your mother has had _years_ of training! With a teacher who obviously values fear and intimidation above all else. You’re not ready to face her!”

“If we’re comparing teachers, it sounds like I’ll _never_ be ready to face her then!”

“Regina,” Maleficent growled, her anger flaring. “I am warning you. You are not ready. If you go now, you’re on your own. I will have nothing more to do with you.”

“Fine!” Regina snarled. She snapped her fingers and the old staff Maurice had made for her appeared in her hands. “I have everything I need right here!” And in a flare of purple smoke, she was gone.

“Stubborn!” Maleficent cried to the empty garden. “Foolish, _stubborn_ child!”

She growled long and low, then spun on her heel and disappeared into her lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be angst. Sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ummm. things are not so happy. Cora and Gold continue to be the absolute worst. stressy things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @witchpieceoftoast - just fyi - Chore Count of around 5 I reckon.
> 
> general note to everyone: I updated two chapters today - Chapter 9 and Chapter 10

Regina materialised in the kitchen of the inn, startling Agatha so much she dropped the pan she was placing in the oven.

“Regina!” 

“Granny!”

Agatha hugged Regina fiercely and Regina returned the embrace with equal desperation.

But then Agatha drew back and glared at Regina. “What are you _doing_ here? I told you to stay away!”

“I couldn’t! I can’t just sit by while mother hurts people!”

Agatha looked quickly around the room. “Where’s the dragon?”

“She didn’t come. She said I should stay away too.”

“You should have listened,” Granny growled, taking Regina by the arm and dragging her away from the door that led to the rest of the inn. It was a full house tonight, people seeking the warmth and cheer of the common rooms so they could forget the man frozen in the market; Granny didn’t want anyone overhearing or seeing Regina.

“I had to see her for myself, Granny. I have to stop her.” 

Regina stumbled along behind Agatha, her steps faltering and unsure.

“What’s wrong?” Agatha asked, low and worried.

“It’s been a long day,” Regina admitted. “I’ve used a lot of magic to get here. I’m tired.”

Agatha groaned. “Did you stop to think at _all?”_

Regina had the sense to look a little contrite. “I’m sorry. I just need to rest for a few hours. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Agatha said, sourly. “Upstairs, to Greeta’s bed. And when you’ve rested, you’re going back to the dragon!”

Greeta was working in the little alcove behind the bar; she was very good with writing and numbers, and she was learning (and improving) Philip’s system of record keeping. Her room at the top of the stairs would be empty and quiet. No one but the family went up there. Regina slipped up the stairs like a shadow.

Agatha rescued the pan from where she had dropped it, shoveled the spilled food back into it, and slammed it into the oven. She went out into the inn, cornering Kate and whispering a hurried explanation in her ear. Kate’s eyes went momentarily wide with surprise, but she recovered quickly and went back to delivering mugs of ale to their subdued customers as though nothing had happened. A quiet word to Phillip and Greeta when she stopped at the counter for freshly filled tankards, and then it was just a matter of getting through to the evening without anyone discovering their unexpected visitor.

 

***

 

Barely two hours after Regina had arrived, with all the tables in the inn still crowded with men and women drinking steadily, there was a harsh banging on the door; it flew back, crashing into the wall, and a group of soldiers burst in, their weapons drawn and faces grim. 

As the men started to move through the common room, Agatha dragged Greeta from behind the counter and into the kitchen in what she knew was probably a doomed attempt to hide them.

Out in the common room, the soldiers were shoving people back into their seats as they tried to scurry away, and fanning out to cover all corners. When the room was secured, Cora and Gold stepped through the door. The fearful villagers groaned and tried to make themselves look smaller as Cora cast her eye around the room.

“Where is the owner of this establishment?” a solider called out.

Kate and Phillip stepped forward, him standing a little in front of Kate, offering her the meagre shield of his body.

“Begging your pardon, sir, this inn is ours.”

Cora moved closer. “I know you,” she said, staring at Kate, her eyes flicking down to take in her work-stained clothing and pregnancy-swollen belly.

“Oh. I was your washerwoman, Milady. I didn’t think you’d-“

Cora glanced back at Gold, who shook his head.

“Who _else_ is in this inn?” Cora asked genially.

Phillip’s glance darted around the full tables. “Ma’am?” he stammered.

“Someone else is here,” Cora said again, with a smile filled with threat. “Someone who doesn’t belong _here.”_

“I assure you Ma’am-“

“Do not _lie_ to me,” Cora said pleasantly.

“My grandmother!” Kate cried suddenly. “My grandmother is visiting.”

“Your grandmother?” Cora said nastily.

“Yes, Milady. And my cousin.”

“And where are they. This _grandmother._ And cousin.”

“In the kitchen, “ Kate stammered. “Helping with the meals.” She squared her shoulders. “Granny!” she called, her voice quavering despite her best efforts. “Would you and cousin Greeta please come out here?”

For a panicked handful of heartbeats, Kate thought Agatha was going to refuse to show herself. But then the old woman crept out into the common room; she’d changed her posture, bending her back and bowing her knees so she looked older and frailer than she really was. Greeta walked next to her, head lowered, her hand on Agatha’s elbow as though she were helping her walk.

Cora snarled when she saw the women.

“They have not been registered at the manor!” she said snappishly.

“No, Milady. Forgive me. It was…there was so much to do today…it slipped our minds. First thing in the morning. I swear. I’ll be at the gatehouse and register them myself Ma’am.” Kate was almost babbling with relief as she watched the intent interest go out of Cora’s eyes to be replaced with frustration.

But then Gold sniffed deeply, his hand on his dagger hilt. “Wait,” he said. He looked pointedly at Cora. “Wolf.”

“Your grandmother’s a _werewolf?”_ Cora demanded.

“I…I..” Kate stammered, having no response for the woman.

“The girl doesn’t know!” Agatha called. “It’s my little secret. I’ve not been the wolf in years!”

Cora laughed. “Old woman, you were wise to hide from me.”

“This isn’t what I sensed,” Gold muttered. “Someone in this village has been using powerful magic. And it’s not this…broken old hag.”

Agatha kept her glance fixed on the floor to hide the hatred burning in her eyes. She knew these were Maurice’s murderers. But she was too far away to try to strike at them. She bided her time until she could get closer. Then Cora gave her an opportunity.

“We’ll keep looking. We’ll find them,” Cora said to Gold; her hand closed automatically over his wrist in an attempt to calm him; the man flinched and drew back, pulling his arm away from Cora’s touch. 

Cora frowned. She turned back to Agatha. “You may be old and weak, and stuck in this form. But you are still a wolf. I do not suffer wolves to live.”

“They’ll go,” Kate gasped. “Please, Milady. I’ll send them on their way-“

Cora ignored her. “Bring them here,” she ordered her soldiers. “We’ll end this now.”

Two soldiers stepped smartly forward.

Agatha snarled, but forced herself to wait, to not straighten up.

“Leave her _alone!”_ a voice rang out, from the bottom of the stairs.

Cora turned.

She smiled.

“Regina,” she said, satisfied.

Regina had heard the commotion, woken, considered staying hidden, but then had crept downstairs, staff in hand, to see if she could help.

She’d arrived in time to hear her mother threaten Agatha and Greeta, and had reacted without thought. Her mind raced now, trying to find a solution or an escape. The inn was filled with people, and she wasn't sure she could strike without risking hurting an innocent.

Agatha tried to leap towards Regina, but the soldiers were on her, holding her roughly in place. The other soldiers around the room held their weapons in threatening positions, alert for any sign of movement from the villagers.

Cora was still speaking. Her eyes had raked over Regina, taking in her rough and ready clothes, a gnarled piece of wood in hand, hair loosened by sleep, skin darkened by hours spent working in the open air. “What _have_ you done to yourself?” she asked disdainfully. Then she sniffed. “Ah, well. It’s nothing a glamour won’t hide. I’ll soon have you looking fit to marry a king! Come along.”

“No,” Regina spat.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not marrying _anyone!”_

“Really Cora,” Gold said with a sigh. “Take your child in hand.”

“I’ll handle this,” Cora growled back at him. She faced Regina, and curled her hand; her palm filled with pale glowing purple. “I’m sure you remember what happens to little girls who disobey.” 

Cora flicked her fingers, sending ribbons of power snarling towards Regina; from experience, they both knew what would happen next. The tendrils would wrap around Regina, restricting her movements, holding her in place. Then she’d be lifted high off the ground, the constriction of the magical bindings making it difficult for her to breathe. She’d start to gasp, and soon sobbing and begging for forgiveness would follow. 

Except this time, Regina struck before her mother’s power could reach her.

She flung her arms forward, hands open and blasting a punch of magic directly at Cora; the force of Regina’s strike threw her mother back, through the open door and out into the street. With a howl, Regina followed, using a transport spell to carry herself directly at her mother. 

Gold had reared back in surprise at the first flare of Regina’s magic, but he followed her, only seconds behind.

For a few moments, everyone left in the inn was stupefied by what had happened. Then the captain cried at his men, “Outside! Now!” 

Cora’s soldiers ran for the door, the villagers close behind; some of them melted away back to the relative safety of their homes, but several stayed in the street to watch the unfolding events. Agatha was among them, refusing to leave Regina to face Cora and Gold on her own. 

Cora was on her feet, facing off with Regina.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Cora demanded; her hands were raised, casting a defensive shield of power around her.

“I won’t let you hurt me again,” Regina growled, ignoring her mother’s question. She still held her staff in one hand, but was throwing stabbing jabs of power at the shield with the other.Her eyes blazed with fury as bright as the purple glow of her magic. “I won’t let you hurt _anyone.”_

Gold had materialised behind Cora. “She’s very good,” he said oilily. “And you told me she had no power to speak of! Contain her, Cora. Or _I_ will. She’ll make me a _fine_ apprentice.”

“No!” Cora cried. “She’s mine. I have _plans!”_

She tried to cast magical bindings at Regina, but she was distracted by her argument with Gold, and Regina’s fury blazed so bright that she was able to take hold of Cora’s spell and fling it back at her. The combined force of magic lashed into Cora sending her thudding to the ground. 

Gold looked down at Cora’s stunned form, then at Regina. He laughed. “Very well done, my dear. But I think play time is over. Come with me. I will show you the true extent of your power.”

“I _have_ a teacher,” Regina snarled. She pointed her staff at him. _“You_ have nothing I want to see.”

“Oh?” Gold said with a baleful smile. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned then, my dear?”

Regina glowered. Her victory over her mother filled her with confidence. She drew up her magic, the heat of her anger adding potency to her power. 

Gold crossed one foot over the other, seeming to lean nonchalantly against thin air, one hand resting lightly on the dagger at his hip, the other cupping his chin. He yawned.

Regina snarled and sent her magic barreling towards the slouching Gold.

He flicked his wrist.

Regina’s spell hit what appeared to be a solid wall. It fizzled and failed.

Gold was moving immediately, striking as quickly as a snake hidden in the grass. His spell lanced out, and Regina felt as though a hand had closed over her throat. She gasped, dropping her staff to scrabble with useless fingers at her skin, trying to move something that wasn’t there.

Gold laughed again. “Think quick, my dear. Join me. Or die. Your choice.”

Behind him, Agatha was snarling and preparing to leap. If she threw herself at Gold, perhaps she could break his concentration so that he’d drop his spell, giving Regina time to escape.

But before Agatha could act, there was a crash, as though of thunder, from directly overhead. A sharp flash flooded the sky, bright enough in the early evening light to blind anyone looking too closely at it.

In the midst of the glare, a dragon materialised.

 

Maleficent slammed to earth, landing on all four feet; the ground shook beneath her.

“Let my student go,” she growled at Gold.

Gold backed up a few surprised feet. He gaped at the dragon. “You’re her teacher? A _worm?”_

Maleficent rumbled in anger. She opened her mouth and roared, sending a wash of dragonfire directly at Gold; he flung up a shield to defend himself, releasing Regina to focus on this new battle.

“This ends here, imp,” Maleficent snarled.

“Do you really think you can defeat _me?”_ Gold laughed. “No worm is strong enough to best me.”

Maleficent stretched her mouth in a grin that showed all her teeth. “No?” she said archly. “Not even a worm who knows to say Rumplestlitskin?”

Gold clutched at his chest as though he had been mortally wounded. He staggered back making a choking sound that gradually turned into a laugh. He stilled his stagger and stood, his feet firm on the ground, facing the dragon. 

“Oh. That’s precious. You thought using my True Name would _bind_ me! I _am_ sorry, worm.But you were wrong. I had enough of being chained. No one controls me now.”

The slits of Maleficent’s eyes narrowed in surprise, then she shook herself and leaped, up into the air, striving to gain the high ground before-

Rumplestiltskin struck, sending a lance of power to batter at Maleficent’s underbelly.

She shuddered, but rallied, beating her wings to climb higher before wheeling to blaze down on him with fire. 

They traded blows; at first, neither one of them seemed to have the upper hand in ability, but with every strike Rumplestiltskin landed, Maleficent felt her own power wane, as though he was feeding off her magic, siphoning it off to strengthen his own. She knew she had to find a way to break through his defenses and defeat him, before he left her too weak to defend herself.

 

Recognising that her teacher was struggling, Regina stepped forward to try to help. But she had forgotten her mother.

Cora had recovered enough to stagger to her feet. She called to her captain to rally his forces and surround Regina. If magic alone couldn’t subdue her daughter, she’d try adding physical force to the mix. 

Regina turned to face her mother; Cora was preparing to fling a new spell at her, and Regina was desperately trying to cast a defensive shield. Her power faltered and sputtered as she tried to draw on it; she was tired and drained by her earlier efforts. She’d pushed too hard, tried to do too much; she was paying the price now. 

Cora smiled; it was not a pleasant smile. She moved closer, knowing her daughter could not harm her. 

Maleficent and Rumplestiltskin still battled, their fight drawing them away from where Cora and Regina faced off. Villagers were scattering, trying to find shelter anywhere they could. Many of them were gathered close to the inn, huddling against the walls of houses for protection. Kate, Greeta and Phillip were out in the open, trying to reach Regina, but they were blocked off by Cora’s soldiers. There was no sign of Agatha.

Kate turned to the villagers. 

“Come on!” she shouted. “We can’t let her do this on her own! We can fight them!”

“They’ve got weapons!” a man cried.

“So do we!” cried Greeta. She brandished the knife she used to peel potatoes. It was long and thin and curved, and could be deadly if wielded correctly. 

The villagers by the inn looked at each other fearfully. Then they looked at Regina, small and alone, surrounded by hulking, armed men. 

“We’ve been afraid of them too long,” Kate cried pleadingly. “We can fight back. We can!” She had one hand on her pregnant belly, the other grasped the hoe she used to weed the garden. She shook it at the villagers and shouted, “Who’s with me?!”

Several men sighed. They stepped forward a little reluctantly. Other men and women followed behind, picking up anything they could find - pitchforks, spades, sickles - the regular implements of their daily lives. 

Phillip took Kate’s arm, took the hoe from her hand, and urged her back. “It’s all right, love,” he said quietly. “I’ve got this. You go have a bit of a sit down. We’ll take care of it.”

The villagers fell on the soldiers, taking them by surprise. They were able to subdue a few of them easily before the captain rallied his men again, and had them form up to fight back against the civilians. They chased after the villagers, who scattered, dividing up into small groups to try to get away.

Cora did not call her men back. She was facing a child who was once again powerless and at her mercy. She minced closer, her power simmering in her palm, waiting to be unleashed. The smile on her face was sickly sweet, just like her voice as she murmured spiteful words at Regina. 

“Well, my dear. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. It doesn’t pay to defy your mother, does it?”

Despairing of the inevitable, Regina collapsed to her knees, her hands falling helplessly to the ground. 

She felt something under her fingers; something familiar and strong.

The staff. Maurice’s staff. Maurice, who her mother had killed.

Maurice was an old man when he taught Regina to fight, so he taught her to fight like an old man; he taught her to be clever, to conserve her strength, to be aware of her opponent’s weakness and know how to use it against them. And when she saw an opening, he taught her to strike - clean and hard. An old man had no time to waste in gloating over a victory; especially not before he had even won it.

Cora was so sure Regina’s power was thoroughly drained, she had dropped all her magical shields. She was taking so much pleasure in taunting Regina, her hand was not held in an attack position, but rather in a way to show off the magic glimmering there - too high, too far to the side.

As soon as her mother drew in range, Regina acted. She closed her fingers over the staff and swept it upwards in a wide arc, striking Cora across the face. Cora released her spell, an instinctive response to being attacked, but her aim was off, and the power slammed into a wall. Regina was on her feet, moving like a whirlwind, too quickly for Cora to rally her magic, thudding the staff into Cora’s arm, throwing off her aim, every time she tried to send a spell at Regina; she struck Cora twice, thrice, until her mother fell, senseless. 

Regina leaned against the staff, panting with the shock and exertion of the fight. She stared around her; Maleficent and Gold were still fighting. She suddenly noticed Granny creeping closer to Gold. Was the old woman mad? She should be running to hide, not drawing close to the battle! Regina saw Greeta, grinning maniacally as she hit a soldier repeatedly in the head with a block of firewood.

“You!” Regina cried as the man fell. “Greeta. Right? Come here!”

“What do you need?” Greeta asked eagerly, running up to Regina.

“Watch her,” Regina said, pointing to her mother. “Tie up her hands so she cant use them. Sit on her if you have to. Keep her down!”

“Oh I will!” Greeta shouted to Regina’s back. 

She was dashing towards the dragon.

 

Agatha wanted to help. 

This man - this imp - Rumplestiltskin she’d heard the dragon call him - his power was immense. It was shaking the dragon; if _she_ couldn’t defeat Rumplestiltskin, then Regina certainly didn’t stand a chance.

There were other fights happening around her, villagers fighting soldiers; but Agatha knew the most important battle was between the dragon and the imp. And she wanted to help.

She’d crept close enough that she could hear them, jeering and mocking each other between blows.

“Are your wings growing heavy, worm?” Rumplestiltskin shouted. “Is that why you can’t simply fly away?” He sent a sharp stab of power into the dragon’s outstretched wing, shredding the edge. 

Maleficent groaned, but turned the sound into another roar; a blaze of flame washed over the imp. He stood firm behind a magical shield; he was so cocky, he cast with only one hand, the other he kept perched jauntily on his dagger.

Maleficent frowned. Rumplestiltskin barely moved his hand from the dagger, not at any point during their fight. Something about that niggled at her mind. “The dagger,” she said. “What have you done, imp? Chained your power to the dagger?”

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “What if I have? I’m _tired_ of being controlled by any fool who knew how to read an ancient text! I will be in charge of my own destiny, thank you! I will keep my power in my own hands!” His magic flared out, driving the dragon back. She kept coming forward, obviously targeting the dagger, but she could not draw close enough to take it; and she was weak now, and growing weaker.

Agatha sighed. She knew what she had to do.

She was just close enough that she could perhaps surprise Rumplestiltskin; but she had no hope of moving fast enough in her current form.

She concentrated, reaching deep into herself to draw on every ounce of energy she had left in her old bones. She felt the transformation start. She had forgotten how much it _hurt_. But it wouldn’t last long; a handful of seconds, the tiniest slice of eternity. Then she’d be the wolf, for one last time. For long enough to gather muscles, old but still strong, tense her legs under her, and _pounce._

Her yellowed fangs closed on the imp’s wrist. She felt the stab of magic, sending pain radiating through her jaw and into her body. But she held tight, trying to close her jaw enough that her teeth would meet through flesh and sinew and bone. But the imp was flinging his arm back, drawing the dagger and throwing her from him in the same movement. His magic still coalesced in his palm. She snapped down, hard, as hard as a dying body could. The imp’s hand jerked. The dagger flew from him. The dragon swept in. 

Her body hit the ground, but she barely felt the pain of it over all the other torments she was suffering. She felt the wolf start to leave her, and she began to convulse as her body transformed. Distantly, faintly, anguished, she heard a voice she knew.

“Granny!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina and Mal dole out some justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't exactly where I wanted to end this chapter, but given how difficult it is to find time to write right now, I figured best to post now. Some people were a wee bit concerned about Granny, and it'd be mean to keep them waiting any longer than I already have!

 

Regina crouched besides the fallen woman.

“Granny?” she said brokenly. “Can you hear me?”

Agatha’s breath shuddered through her, her eyes flickered open. 

“Oh. Hello, child. You’re crying.”

Regina sobbed, letting the tears fall, her hands too preoccupied with brushing the hair out of Agatha’s face and checking her for signs of injury. She could barely feel Agatha’s heart; it beat erratically and faint and Regina ground her teeth in frustration.

“Granny!” she cried when Agatha’s eyes drooped shut, “Look at me! Stay with me. Please!”

“So tired,” Agatha murmured. “Hurts. Just want to rest…a while.”

“No!” Regina said forcefully. “No..no..no..”

But Agatha’s eyes would not open again. She was still breathing, but so faint and shallow it took Regina several minutes to be sure she still lived.

“Maleficent!” Regina screamed, turning towards the dragon, where she still faced Gold. “Help me!”

 

Maleficent pounced on the dagger before it even hit the ground, sweeping it up with an outstretched claw.

Rumplestiltskin howled in rage. One arm dangled uselessly at his side, blood dripping into the earth from the wounds Agatha had left in his wrist.

Maleficent frowned. The imp was making no move to heal himself; instead he dashed wildly towards her, his eyes fixated on the dagger held between two claws.

“Stop!” she cried.

As though he had crashed into a glass wall, the imp jerked to a halt. He stood, his limbs stiff and awkward, his body immobile. He screamed in frustration. “Give me back my dagger!”

“Were you really foolish enough to tie your power to this?” the dragon mused, holding up the knife so she could sniff at it. Her lip curled in distaste at the scent of the dark magic woven into the blade. She turned it again, and saw the name carved into the metal; the letters writhed and shifted as though trying to hide themselves from her sight, to make it impossible for them to be read. But Maleficent knew what they said. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” she hissed.

“It’s mine! Give it back!” His voice was high-pitched, petulant and desperate. 

Maleficent sneered, was about to say something in reply, but at that moment, Regina cried out for her. She hesitated, glancing over to see Regina crouched over the wolf’s fallen, unmoving, body. Maleficent sighed.

“I am sending you away,” she told Rumplestiltskin. “And you will do nothing but wait for me wherever I put you.”

“You sniveling worm!” he cried. “I will make you-“

His insult was lost in a flare of dark purple as Maleficent’s magic washed over him and swept him away. 

Maleficent launched herself into a long, shallow, dive; she landed beside Regina with a ground-shaking thud.

“What’s happened?” she asked as she tucked her wings against her sides and nudged closer to Regina.

“It’s Granny,” Regina said, turning her tear-streaked face up towards the dragon. “She won’t wake up.”

Maleficent leaned over the old woman, sniffed deeply, and sighed.

“She used up a lot of her lifeforce fighting the imp. Too much. She’s drained herself.”

“What are you saying, Maleficent?”

“She’s not left herself enough, little one. Her heart will stop soon.”

“No!” Regina cried. “You can heal her! Can’t you? Please?!”

“I am sorry, Regina. This is beyond healing. Her lifeforce is spent. That is not something any healing magic can fix.”

When the import of the dragon’s words hit her, Regina crumpled into Granny’s body, her hands clutching at the folds of Agatha’s dress, shaking with the depth of her grief. “Please, Granny,” she begged in a broken voice. “Don’t go. Not now. Not yet.”

Maleficent huffed out a breath, ruffling Regina’s hair and setting little whirls of dust dancing among the cobblestones.

“Move back, Regina,” she said.

“I won’t leave her!” 

“Regina. Listen to me. I need you to move away from her. Now.”

Regina reared back, fury snapping in her eyes. But her anger died when she saw a green glow building under Maleficent’s scales, high on her chest, about where Regina knew her heart was. “What’s happening?” she gasped, “Are you hurt?!”

“No,” Maleficent assured her. “But it may be dangerous for you to be too close when I do this.” 

She extended a forearm, two long talons outstretched to rest against Agatha’s chest. The glow in her chest spread until the dragon’s entire underbelly pulsed with green light; it flowed up along her forearm, down into her talons, and then out to flood into Agatha’s body. The old wolf glowed green for moment, then the light faded.

“What are you-“ Regina started to say, but broke off when Granny gasped, sucking air into her lungs and then coughing in a wracking, hacking, fit. “What have you _done?!”_

Maleficent moved back, the green glow receding along her body until her scales returned to their normal iridescent purples and blues. 

Agatha was sitting up, blinking in confusion.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice muzzy. “Regina? Child? Are you all right?”

“I’m..never mind me! You! You’re alive!” She flung her arms around Granny and hugged her.

“No one’s as surprised by that as me,” Agatha muttered as she patted Regina’s back soothingly. “What did you do, child? Some sort of magic?”

“It wasn’t me,” Regina said, the tears competing with the laughter that bubbled out of her. “It was Maleficent. She did-“ She looked up at the dragon. “What _did_ you do?”

“A few months worth of lifeforce,” Maleficent said with a shrug. “Enough to give an old wolf a few more years. If you don’t waste it on transforming whenever the whim takes you.”

“Whim!” Agatha spluttered. “That was no whim!” She paused, looking around her frantically. “Did it work? Where is the imp?”

“It worked,” Maleficent said with a satisfied hum. “The imp is no longer a threat.”

“Can’t say the same for this one!”

The three of them turned to see who had called out. 

It was Greeta. She was sitting on Cora’s chest, trying manfully to keep the woman unconscious, but it was obvious the witch was waking up.

And that was not the only threat. Some of Cora’s soldiers had fended off the villagers’ attack and were running towards them, weapons drawn. They could hear the Captain shouting orders to capture the dragon.

“You have to go!” Regina said to Maleficent. “I don’t want them hurting you!”

Maleficent growled. “I’m not afraid of a few swords.”

“Maleficent, please! They’ve been making plans to trap you. They'll have more than swords! I can handle them. But you have to get to safety!”

Maleficent grunted. She focused her magic and a leather strap materialised in her talon. She handed it to Regina. 

“Put this on your mother.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a cuff. It will prevent her using her magic. And if you put it on her, only you will be able to take it off.”

“Okay, fine,” Regina said, her attention more on the approaching soldiers than what the dragon was saying. “I’ll do it. Now, go!”

“I’m going,” the dragon muttered. She knew Rumplestiltskin was waiting for her, and she did not want to leave the imp alone too long in case he dreamed up any more mischief. She leapt into the air, seeming to hang suspended for a second, then her wings started to flap, creating a strong wind. She powered herself as high as tall tree, and in a flare of purple, she disappeared. 

Regina was the only person not watching the dragon escape. She was kneeling by her semi-conscious mother, strapping the leather cuff onto her wrist.

 

***

 

They made an odd tableau - the soldiers on one side, battered but still proud; the villagers grouped on the other side, bleeding and torn even more so that the soldiers, but defiant; an old woman propped up by two younger, one heavily pregnant, the other glaring at the soldiers with a blaze of murderous hunger in her eyes.

And between them all, two witches. 

“Release me from this ridiculous cuff, Regina, and I will let you and your mob go free.”

“Release yourself, Mother. _If_ you can, I’ll let you and _your_ mob go free.”

“We can take them, Milady,” the Captain called to Cora. “Just give the word.”

Regina snarled. “Try it, Captain, and I will summon the dragon back and burn you where you stand.”

The man scoffed.

Regina frowned and held out her palm. Her gaze never left the Captain’s face, not as her palm filled with fire and the men behind him gasped in fear.

“Perhaps I won’t wait for the dragon,” Regina said sardonically. “Perhaps I’ll just set you alight myself.”

Some of the soldiers could be heard murmuring in fear. _“You saw what she did to Milady.” “The dragon comes at her beck and call.” “She’s more powerful than the Lady Cora.” “We’re doomed if we oppose her.”_

“Regina,” Cora tried again. “Be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable, Mother. Believe me.” She closed her palm into a fist, snuffing out the flame. “Do you want to try for _un_ reasonable?”

“Why are we waiting then?” Cora cried. “Do you damnedest!”

“We’re waiting for Father,” Regina said icily.

She could see Philip and some of the other villagers approaching, her father striding amongst them. She’d sent Philip and some of his trusted hunting companions up to the Manor to fetch Sir Henry. The men still treated their fieflord deferentially, but there was no doubt he was their prisoner.

“Any trouble?” she asked Philip when they drew near enough to speak.

“No, Ma’am. He came quietly.”

“Regina,” Henry said, shaking his head. “I never thought we’d see you again.”

“Hello, Father,” Regina said; there was very little warmth in her tone. “I see you are well.”

“I’ve had better days, if you must know,” Sir Henry replied with a wry smile.

“Delightful reunion,” Cora said. She sounded bored, but Regina could see the calculating and tension behind her mother’s eyes. “What now?”

“Now I give you a choice,” Regina replied. “Which is more than you deserve. You can pick - either banishment or death.”

Cora laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deathly serious,” Regina replied.

“Well then, my dear,” Cora said coldly. “I choose banishment.”

“You can never return, Mother,” Regina warned.

“Oh, I assure you, my dear. I have _no_ intention of returning.”

Regina turned to her father. She did not bear the same strength of ill-feeling for him as she did for her mother. Henry Mills may not have been a particularly attentive father, but he had not been deliberately cruel either. “You have a choice too,” she said. “You may stay here, if you wish. Or you can join Mother in exile.”

Henry sighed. “I had best go with your mother.”

Regina blinked in surprise. She had known by her father’s actions that he had always loved her mother best of anything and anyone, but she had not thought his affection had run so deeply as to cause him to abandon his home, his lands, and his people. “You won’t be harmed if you choose to stay,” she promised.

“I’m sure I won’t my dear. But I can’t let your mother face what is to come alone. Without me. That would not be right.”

Cora sneered. “There you have it, Regina. Your father and I will go into exile, and you will never see us again. That is what you want, isn’t it?” Garnering no response from Regina except a stony glare, Cora snapped at her soldiers. “Captain! Tell your men to fall to. We are leaving.”

“Begging your pardon, Milady,” the Captain replied, embarrassed. “Not all the men want to come with you.”

Regina smiled. “I offer pardon for every man who stays and swears fealty to me.”

At her words, several of Cora’s soldiers began to peel away from their fellows, crossing over to stand with the villagers at Regina’s back. More and more of their colleagues followed, until only a handful of men remained standing by Cora’s Captain.

“So be it,” Cora snarled. “I will remember,” she said ominously. She sniffed. “Fetch my carriage, Captain. We’ll be off.”

“Oh, no, Mother,” Regina said softly. “You don’t get to choose _where_ you go into exile.”

“Really, Regina-“

But Regina was ignoring her mother, focusing instead on drawing her power until it filled her hands, glowing a bright, shimmering purple.

“What are you doing?” Cora snarled. 

“Sending you somewhere you can do no more harm,” Regina said. Her voice trembled, and her body shook, but she forced herself to work through the spell she had found in one of Maleficent’s old books. She could feel the strain on her power, feel the exertion of it begin to blurher vision and sap her body of the strength to stand upright. 

She was on the verge of admitting defeat when she felt the spell coalesce. Her hands suddenly thrummed with power, and she let the magic flow away from her, watched as it twisted and swirled and spun itself into a sucking vortex.

“What is that?” Cora screamed. Her skirts and hair were whipping about as though she were battling a strong wind.

“A portal,” Regina said tiredly, too spent to gloat. “I’m banishing you to another world, Mother.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Goodbye, Mother. Enjoy living in a world free of magic.”

“Regina….!” Cora screamed, her voice fading into the distance as the portal took her.

Regina turned to her father. Lines of tension stood out on her face as she strained to keep the portal open. She spoke through gritted teeth. “You may still change your mind, Father.”

He shook his head. “I can’t leave her. Especially not now! Goodbye, my dear. I won’t ask you to think kindly of me.” Squaring his shoulders, he walked forward, his eyes fixed on the point his wife had disappeared towards. He spared no glance for his daughter, or the people who had once called him lord. He moved closer and closer to the portal until he was caught up in its wake and sucked away in the same manner Cora had been.

“Right,” the Captain muttered. “You know what to do!” he ordered his remaining men in a firm voice. “On the double. Follow me!” They jogged towards the portal and were sucked up, one by one.

As the last man disappeared through the portal, and the swirling vortex faded, Regina staggered backwards, only being saved from falling by Greeta’s quick thinking and strong arms.

 

***

 

The cave was dank and glowed dimly; a slimy mould covered the walls, giving off a faint light and a damp, mouldering smell. The walls and ceiling oozed with moisture, making the air warm and thick.

Rumplestiltskin stood in the middle of the open space, his face a good match for the grimness of his surroundings. His injured hand still bled, dripping red to splash and blend into the dark puddles that dotted the floor. He snarled when Maleficent materialised before him.

“Release me!” he cried. “Give me back my dagger!”

Maleficent shook her head; she held the dagger between two careful talons and raised it to eye level so she could examine it closely.

“Tell me about this dagger,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin groaned, like the words were being torn from him with great pain. “It is _mine!_ I made it!”

“Why?”

“I was tired of being controlled! I told you - you know - anyone who learned my True Name…they could make me do whatever they wanted. I was _tired_ of being used by any fool who stumbled across the right text and knew how to recognise me!”

“You put your True Name into this dagger? How?” 

Rumplestiltskin groaned again as he was compelled to answer.

“Yesss,” he hissed. “It took me _centuries_ to gather the power and to learn the way of it. My Name, the power to control me - is woven into the dagger.”

“And so whoever wields the dagger … wields you?”

“Yess. But the dagger is mine. Mine! Give it back to me!”

“No. What did you want with Cora Mills?”

The imp laughed coldly. “What do you think? She was pretty, had a fair amount of power. She was a pleasant distraction. I’m always happy to find apprentices worthy of my time.” He grinned nastily. “Like her daughter. Oh, she was cunning there, my dear Cora. Told me the child had no power to speak of. I should have paid closer attention, and sooner.”

Maleficent snarled. “Regina is not for you,” she growled.

“Give me back my dagger, and I promise you, I will not so much as harm a hair on her head!”

“What happens if I destroy the dagger?”

Rumplestiltskin swore and bit down on his lip till it bled to try to keep from replying. But Maleficent only snarled and said, “Answer me, imp.”

“I’ll die!” he cried, anguished. “When the dagger is destroyed, I will fade away with it!” 

“Hmm,” Maleficent looked at the dagger again, sniffed it delicately. “This is a dark magic,” she said softly.

“It’s mine,” Rumplestiltskin repeated. “Give it back to me. And I will not harm you, or your student. I will swear it on the dagger. But…refuse me…and I swear this - I will have my vengeance!”

“And how will you have vengeance when I hold the dagger?” Maleficent asked sarcastically. She may not have intended it as a question for the imp to answer, but he spat out a reply anyway.

“You aren’t the first to hold the dagger! I took it back before. I will take it back again. You have to sleep _some_ time, worm! I will take my dagger, and I _will_ have my vengeance!” The imp’s face twisted, his eyes glowed with an ancient, malevolent, anger. “And then I will find your little student, and take her for my own!” 

Maleficent sighed. “How many people have you hurt, imp? In your life?”

“Thousands,” he stammered reluctantly. 

“And you expect me to simply return this trinket to you, so you can go on your merry way and keep hurting people?”

“Trinket?!” 

“No, imp. I won’t let your evil loose on the world again.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled oilily, folding his face into a ingratiating smile. “You and I…we could be a powerful force…working _together._ Hear me out, dragon. Give me my dagger, and I will swear on it, I will swear friendship to you. None that fall under your protection will be harmed. Especially not your apprentice.”

“I won’t bother asking if you will betray me, imp. I already know the answer to _that_ question. I will keep the dagger. I will keep it with me, always.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed, hollow and dry. “And I will keep my word to you, worm. Everything you love will burn.”

Maleficent sighed. “I believe you would try. And so-“ She brought the dagger up to eye level again, then lifted it higher. She tilted her head back-

“What are you doing?” Rumplestiltskin cried.

Maleficent opened her mouth.

“No!” Rumplestiltskin cried. He tried to leap forward, high enough to snatch the dagger away, but he was too late.

Maleficent dropped the dagger into her waiting maw. 

Rumplestiltskin fell to his knees.

Maleficent swallowed.

“You’re mad,” Rumplestiltskin whispered.

Maleficent burped. “That’s … hot,” she said carefully.

“You’re completely mad.” Rumplestiltskin groaned. “I have fallen into the clutches of a mad dragon.”

“Now,” Maleficent said. “What was it you said…if the dagger is destroyed, you die? The dagger is part of me now.” She burped again, a little longer and louder than before. “So, when I die, you die too. Is that right?”

“I will outlive you,” Rumplestiltskin muttered. “I _swear_ it. I will outlive you just so I can dance on your _carcass!”_

“Stand up, imp. Face your judgement.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned, but he got to his feet, and faced the dragon.

Maleficent waved a claw, sending her magic into his injured hand, healing it.

“That’s better,” she said under her breath. “Now. Pay attention to your doom, Rumplestiltskin. When I send you from this place, you will seek out every person you have ever harmed, and you will right the wrong you have done them.”

“You can’t-!”

“Be silent until I have finished. Just listen. Every person you have ever harmed. And if they are dead, you will find their descendants. _All_ of them. And you will determine the ripples of harm your actions caused, and you will right those wrongs. Wherever you go from here on out, Rumplestiltskin, you will do no harm. You will be only a force for good in this world. You will come when I call you, and you will go where I send you. But first and above all, you will do _no_ harm.”

Rumplestiltskin’s face was a mask of horror, but Maleficent’s order kept him silent still. She continued speaking.

“And when you are done with that task, when every trace of the evil you have wrought has finally been eradicated from the world, then I will release you. I give you my vow, Rumplestiltskin. When your labours are ended, you will have your freedom.”She took a deep breath. “You may speak.”

“You are unspeakably cruel,” he said.

Maleficent tilted her head and frowned. “I am a dragon. I have not devoured you for daring to threaten my lair and my hoard. I am giving you a chance to redeem yourself. I would say I am being unspeakably kind. But, no matter, you will have long enough to reflect on the truth of it. Go, Rumplestiltskin. Go and do some good.”

He snarled at her, but he waved his hand, drawing up his power, and disappeared in a plume of dark smoke.

The moment she was alone, Maleficent groaned and shuddered, crouching low against the ground. 

“Ingesting dark magic,” she groused, “What were you thinking? You fool.”

She gathered her power, and cast the spell that would bring her home. She materialised in the rose garden and staggered towards her favourite tree. She curled up around her aching belly and groaned, loud and long. Her body was struggling to absorb the dark power she had fed it, and she felt like she was burning up from the inside. There was nothing to be done about it, except to ride it out. Maleficent tucked her nose under the curve of her tail, groaned again, and tried to sleep. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've started to think of this chapter as 'Regina goes to university'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been bloody ages, and I'm so sorry. Summer always leads to a giant break in writing, and life in general's been kicking me in the bum just lately. Anyhoot, we pick up virtually right after where Chapter 11 left off.

Several days passed before Regina was able to leave her manor and travel to the dragon’s lair. She made the journey in a matter of moments, materialising at the castle door in a plume of deep purple smoke. She hesitated on the doorstep before unsheathing her dagger and beating a rapid staccato on the brass straps that bound the door. She stood back a step, and waited.

She did not have to wait long before the door was flung back and she was face to snout with a snarling dragon.

“What?”

“I’ve come to apologise.”

“Had more important things to do first, I suppose?” Maleficent growled.

“I was…a little indisposed.”

Maleficent frowned. “Did the fight with your mother harm you? Or is the cuff not working?”

“The cuff worked.”

“Then-“

“I banished my mother.”

“Was that wise? Your mother does not strike me as the kind of woman to tuck her tail between her legs and fade quietly into the night.”

“I banished her to a world without magic. She’ll never be able to -“

“How?! How did you… _what_ did you-“

“I read the spell. In the translation of Hekata you showed me. I opened a portal.”

“Regina! Do you ever listen when I counsel caution? Must you _persist_ in taking such chances! You risk _everything!_ Your health, your _life!”_

“I saw no other way to stop her!” Regina cried. She calmed herself with a deep breath. “It tired me out. But it wasn’t anything that two nights of rest, and a big bowl of Granny’s stew, couldn’t fix.”

Maleficent growled.

“At any rate,” Regina muttered sullenly. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came to apologise, and to make you a promise.”

“Apologise for taking ridiculous chances?” Maleficent said, irritation still in her eyes.

“No. For what I said. Before. When I left here. I..I was angry. And I wasn’t thinking. And I didn’t mean what I said. You are a good teacher. I am sorry for saying you weren’t.”

Maleficent stiffened. She sniffed dismissively. “Your words didn’t bother me,” she said.

Regina swallowed an amused smirk.

“So, does this mean you are coming back to finish your studies of magic? Or have you no further use for me, now that you have banished your mother.”

“Oh, I _want_ to keep learning! But…I don’t know if I will be able to.”

“What prevents it?”

Regina sighed. “There is so much to do,” she said quietly. “Father near bankrupted our fiefs. Mother’s campaigns to find me…we have a standing army large enough for a Principality! Soldiers cost money. Feeding them alone-“ She sighed. “There is no one else. I am Father’s heir. The duty falls to me.”

“And what do you know about running a fiefdom?” Maleficent asked, amused.

“Nothing!” Regina wailed. “But my father’s Steward, he will teach me.”

“Ah. So you will not return to the lair?”

“No. I must at least try. I cannot simply abandon my father’s household.” She sighed. “That brings me to my promise.”

Maleficent shifted, her nails clacking against the cold stone floor. “You owe me nothing, Regina.”

“My fief lands surround this forest.”

Maleficent snorted. “Ah. You want me to pay rent, do you?”

“No! Will you just listen. Please? My fiefs are all around you. And I have a lot of trained, armed, men and women who suddenly have very little to occupy themselves with. So. We will be patrolling the borders of every fief. Offering help to defend against raiders or other threats. The sort of thing Father had let slip over the years.”

“A good plan, I suppose.”

“And I promise you this, Maleficent. No dragon hunters will ever cross into these lands. We will stop them and turn them back if they try. You will be able to fly these skies in safety. You won’t have to worry about lucky arrows again. Not as long as I am fieflord here.”

“Regina,” Maleficent said, her voice gone suddenly soft.

“I am not duplicitous. _Or_ ungrateful. I will do everything I can to protect you.”

Maleficent nodded gravely. She cleared her throat, producing a rumbling noise. “As you wish.” She puffed a warm breath of air through her nostrils. “Perhaps we can work something out. With your lessons. Or will running a fiefdom take your every waking hour?”

“I don’t know,” Regina answered truthfully. “Hylton’s only just started explaining things to me. And there is _so_ much to read!”

Maleficent snorted, amused. “It’s a good thing you’ve been practicing then.” She eyed Regina’s irritated face and her mouth stretched into a grin, baring her teeth and prominent fangs. “Must you rush back right away? Surely you have time for a cup of tea?” She turned in the doorway and shuffled off down the long hallway, the thick carpets deadening the sound of her claws.

Regina hesitated for a moment, then followed, pulling the front door closed behind her. “I’ll just go put the kettle on, shall I?” she called to Maleficent’s retreating form.

“Oh, no need,” the dragon said airily. She stopped moving, turned her head to fix Regina with an amused look, and gestured with two long talons. On one of the long tables that lined the hall, a large tray materialised. It bore a steaming tea pot, two dainty cups, and a pile of sticky buns.

Regina stared.

The sound of Maleficent’s choking laugh drifted down the hallway as the dragon continued on her way to the gardens.

“Have you..have you been able to do that _all_ along?” Regina shouted after her.

“Come along, Regina,” Maleficent called back. “Bring the tray with you. Before the tea gets cold!”

 

They worked out an arrangement; bickering pleasantly over tea in the rose garden, they agreed that Regina would spend a few hours a day in the lair studying magic with Maleficent, and she’d take spell books away with her to read and practice spells, under extremely constrained conditions, until she could prove to Maleficent that she had mastered them.

Hylton could have her the rest of the time. Which meant that Regina would be up before the sun so she could go down to the gatehouse and sit beside her Steward while he explained the sometimes quite convoluted history of her family’s holdings. Listening to Hylton drone on about her grandfather the deposed king and all his lesser sons, she learned more about her father and his family’s past in those sleepy hours than she ever had while she lived under the same roof as the man.

Then she learned about numbers, pouring over ledger books and copying Hylton’s fine hand in her own smudged and ill-formed writing. She groaned piteously about this aspect of her lessons over breakfast one morning. She’d taken refuge in the kitchens, knowing that Hylton would not dare risk Agatha’s wrath by keeping Regina from her much-needed morning meal. Greeta was sitting across the table from her, heaping spoonfuls of honey into her porridge.

“Ah, keeping the records is not so difficult,” Greeta said offhandedly.

Regina glowered at her. “I suppose you could do it with your eyes shut,” she snapped.

Greeta laughed. “I learned early, Regina. I’d sit on my father’s knee from the time I was tiny, as he worked out his accountings. We may not have had as large a holding as yours, but we did well enough. At the start.” She shrugged and ate her porridge in silence for a while. “When I was to be married,” she said suddenly, her voice low, “my husband expected me to keep his books.” She looked at Regina through narrowed eyes. “I was to be married to a fieflord. His finances were failing. He had to do away with most of his staff. I was the best he could hope for - poor but noble enough to not embarrass him, and skilled enough to manage his holding.”

Regina stilled. She leaned forward. “Do you want to keep _my_ books?”

Greeta laughed. “No, Regina! If you want to be a _good_ fieflord, you have to learn to manage your own accountings!”

“Oh,” Regina said morosely, subsiding back into her seat.

Greeta took pity on her. “But I’ll help.”

So Greeta joined Regina on her early morning sessions in the gatehouse. And it did help, to have Greeta with her, explaining things more clearly while Hylton droned on sonorously about the importance of neat lines of writing and balancing of miles worth of figures.

After their morning studies, Greeta would make her way to the training yard; she’d started training with the soldiers, and spent her afternoons hacking at practice targets with a blunted sword, a wild, joyous light gleaming in her eye. Sometimes Regina would get to join her, to practice the skills Maurice had taught her. But more often, Agatha would drag her off to visit the various holdings and fiefs that fell under her dominion.

“The people need to know you,” Agatha reminded her when she complained how boring it was to visit farms and decrepit old manor houses, and be polite and gracious to the suspicious men and women of her fiefs. “They need to see that you are not your mother. Or your father.” 

Hylton kept telling her how her mother’s hunger for power and her father’s neglect had emptied coffers and left the fiefs impoverished; Greeta would shake her head and make despairing comments at the state of the accounts; Granny warned her how fear and hunger bred resentment and revolt, and created vacuums of power too easily filled by the wicked _(“When a man can do nothing but watch his wee ones waste away, he’ll listen to any damn fool who promises full bellies_. _But any man who’d barter for favours over a starving child – rather than just feeding them – well that’s a bastard you want nothing to do with.”)_  

And Regina may have whinged and complained over her breakfast porridge, but she stuck with her lessons and her visits. It was hard work, but her people had no one else they could depend on, so she had to make herself better.

The rewards for her labours were tea and evenings with the dragon.

Maleficent still expected Regina to brew the tea, so she learned how to do it by magic; but baking was a special kind of spellcraft in itself, one that Regina enjoyed enough that she’d still do it by hand. This was how their evenings would begin, with Maleficent curled up in a sunny spot in the kitchen gardens and Regina in an apron, surrounded by flour and butter and sugar. While Regina worked, pouring over recipes and measuring, sifting and stirring, Maleficent would quiz her on the spell books she had read the night before. When she grew hungry enough, the dragon left off her questions and helped with the cooking. (Dragonfire baked cakes and breads far quicker and more evenly than any wood-burning stove.)

They’d have their tea in the rose garden, gossiping idly about whatever Regina had learned that day. Maleficent had a deep memory, and she’d lived in this region long enough, that she remembered first-hand most of what Regina was now discovering as history. She’d fill in the gaps between the sentences and paragraphs Regina had read in dusty old ledgers and books.

When their appetites (both for food and companionship) had been satisfied, Maleficent put Regina through her magical paces, having her cast spell upon spell, some new to her, others variations on spells she was already familiar with. In these moments Regina truly came alive; with every new spell she mastered, and every new piece of arcane knowledge she unearthed, her veins sang with pleasure and the power of magic coursing through her. She’d test her limits, pushing up against the edge where her control ended. She could feel the lure of the power sitting there, curled up on itself, sparkling and promising great rewards if she would only push a little further, let go a little more. But she could also feel Maleficent; watchful but proud, the presence of the dragon acted like a shield, a guardrail keeping her from wandering off and losing herself to the magic.

Eventually Regina tired, her eyes growing heavy and her movements slow.

“Soft,” Maleficent would say. “Enough. Come, sit.”

Her body still thrumming with the pleasure of spellcasting, Regina curled listlessly into the dragon’s side. It was warm, being pressed against Maleficent’s scales, warm and safe. She’d pass the first part of her night sleeping there, and wake in moonlight. Sometimes Maleficent would be asleep too, her tail curled around Regina, her snout tucked up against Regina’s hip. More likely though, she’d be awake, head tilted back on her strong neck as she tracked the passage of the moon across the sky.

“Your grandmother will worry,” Maleficent would say gruffly, as soon as she knew Regina was awake. She’d send her off back to the manor house, with a bundle of books and instructions for which passages to read, notes on translations, and dire warnings of what would happen if Regina strayed from Maleficent’s strict directives.

 

Weeks passed this way, turning into months, then more than a year. If her mother could have seen how hard Regina worked on becoming the best fieflord she could be, she would not have believed it. She would not have recognised her stubborn, frightened, child in this determined young woman. Regina may have been constantly tired, with barely enough energy left over when she returned from the dragon’s lair to douse her head in water and fall into bed, but she could not remember a time she had been happier, or felt more pleased with herself.

She could tell there was a change in her fiefs too; the balance of her accounts were shifting slowly. She needed to take less from her landsmen to feed and pay her soldiers. Their borders were better defended, and they were no longer losing goods of trade in transit; this meant more silver in all their coffers, and Regina was met with less suspicion when she went visiting among her fiefs. Some of her landsmen were even friendly to her!

For all her success, Regina knew that she had not managed this transformation without the help and support of others – from Hylton (however boring his lessons) to Granny (who never let Regina grow too proud of her lands and title). But it was the dragon who truly cemented Regina’s hold on power.

The story of how a young, untrained, girl had bested Cora Mills and her teacher spread far and wide. _The dragon comes at her call._ Everyone knew this dragon, of course. Wall breaker. Daughter stealer. Regina Mills’ dragon. _Cross the Mills girl, and she will send the dragon after you._ That warning was repeated again and again, across the fiefs and further.

“Maleficent would split her sides laughing if she heard that,” Regina complained to Agatha every time the rumour was repeated to her.

Agatha would shrug or grin. “Take your power where you find it for now, child. They’ll learn to respect you for you soon enough.”

Of course, because it was believed Regina controlled the dragon, she was also the recipient of complaints _against_ the dragon.

She’d be working in the gatehouse, ink-stained fingers and creases furrowed into her brow as the numbers danced across the page, when Hylton would slip deferentially into the room and sigh deeply.

“What now?” Regina would groan.

“Another woman taken, Ma’am. Her father is … incensed. He said the dowry has already been paid and spent.”

“I suppose his daughter was happy to marry the dowry payer? He can show me assurances of that?”

“Possibly not.”

“Then let him take it up with the dragon!”

No one ever took it up with the dragon.

Today however, when Hylton interrupted her in the training yard, it was with a different complaint.

“Another woman taken?” Regina asked breathily; it’d had been too long since she trained with the staff, she was out of form. Greeta had been besting her easily. “That’s the second this week!”

“No Ma’am. This is different. This is a complaint from Lucien Parker – Duke of...well, _former_ Duke, I should say.”

“Why is a Duke bothering with me?” Regina asked, frowning. Her fiefs were slowly digging themselves out of the hole her parents had left them in, but her lands were nowhere near wealthy or productive enough to be of interest to anyone of power.

“He’s not a Duke anymore, and that’s why he’s bothering,” Hylton replied.

“Did Maleficent steal his ducal robes?” Regina asked, grinning.

“No Ma’am. Not the dragon. The Imp.”

“The imp – _Rumplestiltskin?_ The complaint is against him?”

“Yes, Ma’am. And since everyone knows your dragon-“

“She’s not _my-“_

“I beg your pardon, Ma'am. Since everyone knows _the_ dragon controls him. And the dragon..well, everyone _thinks_ you control _her.”_

“This is all far too complicated!” Regina said. “I’ll take it up with Maleficent tonight.”


End file.
